


Welcome Home.

by YurikoSPN



Series: It's all about Supernatural! - NSFW Version. [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fangs!kink, Hunt injury, Just a tiny hint of blood play, Mentions of deceased family, Orgasm Control, Slightly rough shower sex, Smut, Storyline-driven, moderate swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YurikoSPN/pseuds/YurikoSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a hunter who finds herself slowly falling in love with Benny, but no matter how much she thinks her feelings are mutual, she decides to step back and let him live a normal life beside Elizabeth, his great-granddaughter.</p>
<p>And it's on a complicated hunt that she realizes walking away from him may be way harder than she expected.</p>
<p>Based on the following prompts by Dirty Supernatural Imagines: <a href="http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/85169960961/source">"Imagine Benny deciding you'd be the perfect mate"</a> + <a href="http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/90393291676/source-oneshot-xxx">“Imagine that you are undressing in a motel room that you are sharing with Benny, thinking he is asleep, but when you turn around, it turns out he has been watching you the whole time.”</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Home.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: [YurikoSPN](http://yurikospn.tumblr.com).
> 
> _P.S.: This story was actually written almost a year and a half ago, so please read it with an open mind. I'd like to think I've improved since then, but I also wanted it to be a part of my AO3 portfolio, which is why I'm posting it here now. Feedback is much appreciated!_

“Are you really, _really_ sure you wanna do this, (Name)?”

 

The rustling of an entire arsenal of fake IDs, credit cards and badges, along with clothing and weapons being hurriedly shoved inside your backpack stopped once your ears captured his words; the incredulity in your stare meeting apprehension in your companion’s.

 

“What do you mean by _‘am I sure’_ , Garth? There’s a freaking freelancer reaper bringing all sorts of monsters back from Purgatory for a handful of Ben Franklins and you’re still asking me if I, as a _hunter_ , wanna do something about it?”

 

You narrowed your eyes at the happy-go-lucky hunter/informant, flipping the recently acquired angel blade in your left hand and pointing the sharp tip accusingly at his Adam’s apple, watching it go up and down fretfully: probably a sign that he was holding back an unadvised answer, “What’s the point in doing our jobs if this son of a bitch just keeps resurrecting creatures? Vampire nests and werewolf packs that we thought were completely destroyed ages ago, at the cost of many of us, are being rebuilt as we talk! What if some psycho idiot decides it’s a nice idea to bring back… I don’t know, _Leviathans_ up next, huh?”, you gestured hyperbolically with your armed hand and he had to actually dodge back a couple steps not to get his throat ripped open in your frenzy.

 

“ _Woah—!_ Easy there, _Xena –_ _the Warrior Princess_! No need to start practicing using that thing on me, I’m just worried about your well-being!”, the man threw his hands up in surrender, and with a heavy sigh, realization dawned on you as softly as an avalanche. Lowering the weapon, you ran your fingers through your hair, rueful gaze falling to the mud and dust covering your combat boots.

 

“I’m sorry, Garth… You even came all the way here to help me and I treat you like this.”, you shook your head, chest heavy with regret, “It’s just that the world is chaos enough already as it is, and I… Look, you and the boys are practically all I have left. I’ve lost too many friends and role-models – great hunters – already. I wouldn’t be able to forgive, nor live with myself, if I knew their sacrifices were in vain because I had one shot at stopping whatever they killed from coming back and I did nothing out of fear… That’s not how it works for me.”

 

For a moment, weighty silence filled the air around you. Garth dipped his head, hiding his eyes under the shade of his hat, and pressed his lips together into a thin line, keeping his hands safely hidden inside the pockets of his oversized green jacket. He knew all too well how legendary hunters like Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle and even Rufus Turner were people you looked up to, despite their imperfections, and that you carried a strict moral code inside your heart that forbade you from allowing any sort of threat to those people’s legacy to prevail.

 

“You don’t have to apologize, I know you’re a great girl at heart and you mean well, (Name). But I want you to know that, like I said before on the phone, this is a shot in the dark. Although I’m lending you this blade – thank Sam and Dean later for that – I’m not even sure it works on reapers too. Hell, I’ve never even heard of a hunter who has tried to kill a reaper before, and those that did probably never lived to tell the story, anyways.”

 

You smirked at that, rolling your eyes mockingly.

 

“Well, aren’t you just as optimistic as always.”

 

In spite of himself, he chuckled lightly, followed not too long after by you. Your expression predictably softened; it was just too damn hard to stay mad at that man.

 

“Just promise me you’ll be careful and that you won’t get yourself killed, alright, (Name)? Otherwise, I’ll just have to make sure a certain reaper gets... _‘Garthed’!_ ”, and he, in the dorkiest way possible, simulated a gun with his right hand, a ridiculous _‘pew-pew’_ escaping his lips as his make-believe thumb/trigger clicked twice.

 

It was all it took to brush away every uncertainty lodging inside your mind, and with a hearty laughter from both sides, followed by a traditional tight hug, you thanked him, threw the angel blade inside your bag and parted ways with the cheerful hunter, but not before succumbing to another fit of giggles when you heard in the distance one of his many cell phones start buzzing and playing at full blast the chorus of ‘ _What is love’_ by Haddaway.

 

“Alright, (Name). Let’s kick some ass and look amazing while at it like you always do.”, you muttered to yourself, smirking, hands holding a firm grip at the steering wheel while your vehicle roared into the night, miles and miles of nothingness, grass and roads greeting your eyes as you traveled to the next and possibly most important case of your life so far.

 

Not unlike the declining number of hunters who were still alive or didn’t bail out to try living a calmer life, you worked solo most of the time. There was so much happening altogether: vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, demons, angels and all sorts of deities using Earth as a playground or a battlefield that traveling in doubles or groups was an almost unaffordable privilege. It had been months since you had last seen the Winchesters and you highly doubted it would change so soon. So, as expected, you recurred to the third closest and still alive person you considered family to help you, and Garth didn’t hesitate to cross a couple States to lend you the possibly only divine weapon capable of putting an end to this whole pandemonium.

 

If you couldn’t be a part of the main warfare going on, played by the Winchester brothers and their trials to close the Gates of Hell for good, you would at least make sure they didn’t have to worry about monsters that were already taken care of a long time ago going after them and ruining their crucial plans.

 

And it was at a small town in Missouri that you discovered the trader reaper was disguised as the local bar owner, so, naturally, you put up your best _‘girl leaving her whole life behind to get a fresh start and search for a new purpose’_ impersonation and hit the place looking for a job as a bartender/waitress.

 

Truth be told, it was no piece of cake to get an opportunity to talk to him, but with a little bit of persuasion and choosing the right employee to approach, your plan eventually succeeded. It could always be just your imagination, but you swore there was a certain aura of death, mystery and superiority constantly surrounding the tall, stoic man in his mid-twenties who was introduced to you as the establishment owner; so much that you didn’t have to think twice in order to conclude, at first glance, that he was indeed the supernatural being you were hunting.

 

“Erm, excuse me, sir? T-This… This is (Name), sir. She showed up asking for a job, a-and I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but please don’t get me wrong! _I_ was _very_ clear that we were not hiring, but _she_ insisted on talking with you and that it was really important to _her_ and that she didn’t have anyone else in town! _So… Please don’t fire me?_ ”, the rookie employee of the bar, _Aaron_ or something, rubbed the back of his neck in a distressed manner, half-whispering his last words. His stare kept wavering between his feet, your face and the rather young and surprisingly handsome man standing before both of you, gallons and gallons of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

 

Silently, you raised one eyebrow, watching his ankles shake like under the effects of an invisible earthquake as he spoke to his boss. The poor thing would either wet his pants or have a heart attack if it went on for much longer, so you lightly tapped his back to reassure him and shifted your gaze to stare directly at the sharp-dressed man sitting across the wooden table.

 

“This job would mean a lot to me, I’m a quick learner and I work hard. All I’m asking for is one opportunity.”

 

As soon as you were done speaking, the reaper’s crafty, pitch black orbs scanned your physique up and down, searching for any imperfections, any stumbles or failures in your disguise, but when he found none, guessing you were just another young, clueless girl, he closed his eyes and started massaging his left temple in a circular motion with the tip of his fingers. His deep, masculine voice hit your core hard, causing a shiver to travel all the way through your spine.

 

“Clean the tables well, prepare and serve good drinks, stay out of my personal business and the job is yours, kid.”

 

You fought back a protest inside your throat (being called _‘Kid’_ , especially by someone who didn’t even look that old, was your single pet peeve) and thanked him like the job he had just given you was the second best thing in the world, right after that time you managed to complete the precious Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl discography a good six months ago, which was currently being kept safe inside Dean’s bedroom at the bunker.

 

_Knowing Dean’s nature and passion for the old rock classics, you wouldn’t be surprised if you came back to the bunker to discover he was keeping the damn thing atop a freaking altar or something._

 

Much to your chagrin, days passed by afterwards with no progress whatsoever; a growing frustration consuming you from within and only worsening the circumstances. Not only the reaper was careful not to leave a single trace behind whenever he left the bar to take care of his _‘other business’_ , but he also never spilled the beans about who he was or what he did to anyone else. Even his oldest and most trusted employees didn’t know where he lived, what kind of car he drove, what kind of life he leaded, and they seemed perfectly fine keeping things that way.

 

To you, however, the fear seemed disproportional to the kind of threat he posed as. Sure, he could kill you in the blink of an eye if you weren’t careful, and there was also the fact that you didn’t exactly know **_yet_** if he was defeatable at all, but cowering and leaving was far from your plans, and if you had to put your life in danger (more than usual, at least) to find a way to end the son of a bitch, then so be it.

 

A month or so later, in one particular crowded night, after hours of serving customers and cleaning tables, you were finally able to rest your lower back against the side of the bar counter, allowing a sigh to externalize some of the soreness on your legs for standing up for so long. Being the only female employee didn’t help either, and more often than not you were the one called to serve the tables and pour drinks, a fact that made you question momentarily if choosing another approach to the case would’ve been better.

 

It was in the middle of your musings that the rarely heard, yet distinct voice snatched you out of your reverie.

 

_“Busy night?”_

 

You had to control your senses with all you’ve got not to seem startled, and you were glad you did once you detected that the one sitting on a stool before you was no other than the pretty face your hands were itching to trespass with the celestial blade.

 

“Not really, it takes a while to get used to the craziness, but I feel like I’ve got the hang of it now.”, your reply was nonchalant, a defiant smile playing on your lips as the onyx eyes of your fake boss, partly hidden in-between dense locks of dark hair, glistened with interest.

 

He pointed at the bottle of the most expensive whiskey hanging on the shelf by the wall, and equally silently, you poured the golden liquid into a thick glass, placing it on the countertop before him. His lips twisted into a wry smile and his fingers played with the rim of the glass, though not taking it to his mouth yet.

 

“It seems that hiring you is the best choice I’ve made in years. I’ve heard that many come here just to see you.”

 

“What can I say, boss? It’s a natural talent.”

 

A soft, low chuckle reverberated through his vocal chords, and his eyes left yours for the first time that night to observe his hand twirling the drink, only to put it back in place with a weak _‘thud’_.

 

“Just like the knack you have for eavesdropping and interrogating my other subordinates to learn more about me, I presume?”

 

From fascinated, the gleam in his dark eyes changed to treacherous. The arrogance with which he observed you, like a predator watching his prey squirm to escape a dead-end, made your insides boil with anger, and with a swagger you didn’t know you had or even where it came from, you leaned in, resting your forearms on the counter, a playful, yet steady gaze eyeing each one of the perfect lines of his face before you bit your lower lip, giving space for a whole new persona to reach the surface of your being.

 

“Women are curious by nature. It doesn’t really help having such a sexy, mysterious boss that I know nothing about, yet desire so, _so_ _bad_...”, you punctuated each word with a stubborn finger climbing on his hand, until you got a hold of his wrist, putting just the right amount of pressure, your thumb absentmindedly drawing small circles on his cold skin.

 

And it was instantaneous: his eyelashes dropped halfway and his nostrils flared, taking in a little more oxygen than necessary; that is, if reapers really needed to breathe at all. From your eyes, his stare dropped to your lips, all the biting and chewing you were working on messing with his self-control to no ends. You could feel his breath on your face, see the fingers of his other hand hold the glass a little too tight and his chest rise and fall a little too quick.

 

With a swift motion, he pulled back and downed his drink in one swallow, loudly smashing the glass against the block of marble separating you and whispering, almost growling, against your left ear.

 

“Five minutes. My office. _Don’t be late_.”

 

He left without sparing you a second glance, knowing you had followed him with your eyes until he disappeared behind the _‘Staff Only’_ door. Like a tidal wave, a sudden rush of adrenaline was pumped into your veins, making your whole body shudder.

 

**That was it.** That was the one chance you were expecting since you arrived to that awful place full of dirty men, bad pick-up lines, terrible music and strong smell of alcohol. Just to be sure, your hands discreetly fumbled with your clothes, searching for the hidden angel blade in the inner pockets of your jacket. Unconsciously, you straightened your spine and your hair, sneaking glances at your sides out of reflex and following the same beeline made earlier by the reaper.

 

With the usual precaution, your feet crossed the maze of rooms identified by old door plates: _Accounting, Cellar, Archive_ and five others of no relevance until you stopped in front of a black door at the end of the corridor, taking a couple seconds to calm your senses and assure yourself mentally that the weapon you had with you was enough to take him down.

 

Aside from the excessive dimness of the office, you barely had time to register anything prior to a chilly and demanding pair of lips took yours captive, using your surprised gasp against you as an opportunity to taste and explore every crevice of your mouth. Forcing the weight of his body onto yours, he made you walk two steps back until you were pressed against the door you had just walked through.

 

Although you could easily bite his tongue off as a payback for the assault, you tangled the fingers of one hand through his hair not to blow your disguise, pulling him closer by the rim of his pants. He groaned in response, promptly locking the door and hugging you by the waist, so you could feel the outline of a generous hard-on pressing against your upper thigh. Your hands traveled to his chest, feeling the rock-hard muscles of his vessel under your fingertips.

 

You had to admit it: reaper or not, _the guy had a taste_. It just wasn’t particularly your cup of tea.

 

“… I’ve been meaning to do this since the first time I saw you.”, he muttered against your mouth and you chuckled gently, opening your eyes and finding nothing more than a lustful, sinister gaze staring right back at you.

 

“Is that so, _boss_?”

 

He just shook his head in affirmation, a raspy breath making its way through his parted lips. And with that, your smile instantly dropped as you held him by the scalp ruthlessly.

 

“Too bad I don’t date filthy reapers like you.”

 

The creature’s primary reaction to your words was snap his eyes fully open, as if being freed from a spell. Nonetheless, he didn’t have enough time to evade his body properly to the side before the full length of the angel blade was jammed into the skin between his left shoulder and chest: the spot in space where his heart, or whatever it was that made him walk and talk, previously was.

 

After inhaling deeply, he released a shaky, pained howl, and with superhuman strength, threw you at the other side of the room; your body knocking over, in the process, the single lamp that kept the place illuminated and causing your surroundings to be engulfed in almost complete darkness. Holding his shoulder, he stared at your gasping and groaning form sprawled on the floor with horrified, enraged eyes.

 

_Damn, he was way stronger than he looked._

“You worm! Pest! I should’ve known you are a hunter!”, he yelled, outraged, and you chuckled breathily, searching for support on the nearby bookshelf to get up; grip still steady on the now blood-bathed blade, “You all smell the same, after all: cheap clothes, bad decisions and betrayal.”

 

“Don’t be so mad, _boss_. Next time I won’t miss your heart.”, you grinned at him, using the honorific title in the most disdainful way possible. Although the dizzy, blurry vision didn’t help much, you could still vaguely pinpoint his location using the scarce moonlight coming from the window. When you felt the world return to full focus, you released the shelf to test your balance after the blow, and with the back of a hand, wiped the blood dripping from your chin, confidence morphing into puzzlement as soon as he started to laugh again.

 

“Oh, silly human! You think you can kill me just because of this simple damage to a perfectly good vessel? Please.”, he rolled his injured shoulder, and even then you noticed that there was not a single drop of blood coming from the wound, only a profound, mystically cauterized and almost see-through gash adorned by the ripped fabric of his presumably expensive shirt, “Though your choice of weapon is rather amusing, you don’t stand a chance against me. I’ve had bigger, stronger and better hunters dying in my hands many times before. A child like you is not capable of accomplishing what experienced men perished whilst trying to do.”, and he crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side in that same overconfident way from always.

 

_If only you could rip his head off of his neck with your bare hands to prove him wrong._

 

“Don’t be so sure of it, you beast.”, you spat the words like venom and threw yourself at him, blade first; but even with all the training and previous experience, he wasn’t that easy to hit in the dark, and since you didn’t want to take a risk by leaving your weak spots open, that meant you had way less chances than usual to attack.

 

Regardless of your careful fighting stance, he had the advantage of _not being human_ on his side, and when the office proved to be too dark for you to keep up with the speed of his attacks and respond accordingly, he found an opening and held your armed hand by the wrist, squeezing it to an almost bone-crushing point; his other hand being held by yours instead.

 

Stubbornly, you refused to let go of the blade, gritting your teeth and glaring back at him.

 

“You’ve got guts, kid, I’ll give you that. But since I’ll have to find a new vessel to keep my business running because of you, and the good ones like this are not that available and willing, torturing you or killing you to compensate my loss won’t be enough…”, he mashed your wrist a little more, delighting himself in your hiss of excruciation and the ear-piercing cry coming from your mouth when your bones and joint finally gave into the pressure and snapped with a dry sound, leaving an open, hemorrhagic fracture between his palm and fingers, “You, my dear, deserve to **_suffer_** for your petulance.”

 

From ebony, his irises started shining a vivid crimson radiance, and you perceived distantly the ground under your feet and the atmosphere around you starting to spin. You guessed, for a split second, that it was a product of your hallucinating brain, or the side-effects of the pain overtaking your senses, and you thought you would pass out at any minute until he released his grip on you and harshly shoved you backwards, not onto the brushed carpet of the office, but atop a pile of dry foliage and grimy earth.

 

Instinctively, your whole body curled in itself and you held your injured, bleeding wrist close to your heart, salty tears running down your face as you struggled to recover your breath and actually give a damn about other matters, like where the _fuck_ you were at or how the hell you were supposed to take him down with one less useful limb.

 

“I’m so, so sorry that I broke your wrist, **_kid_**.”, the reaper squatted in front of you, holding the angel blade right before your eyes, yet completely out of your reach, “But think about the good side: since you like killing monsters and all that jazz, let’s see how much of a great hunter you are surviving here in Purgatory. If I were to bet, I’d say you’d live through three or four… Hours at most.”, and then he got up, a haughty smirk curving his lips as he turned his back to you, waving a goodbye with the angel blade, “Thanks for the gift, by the way. I bet it’s worth a couple bucks in the black market. There must be lots of demons dying to get their hands on one of these.”

 

He gave one, two, three steps and stopped on his tracks after you shouted a faulty _‘Hey!’_ at him, rolling his eyes. And when he turned around, your vicious smile was the last thing he saw before he felt another angel blade perforate the center of his torso, making him freeze in place as his face lost all of its color, his so-called superior existence decaying before an ordinary, powerless human like you.

 

_“…H-how?!”_

“The greatest hunters… Always have… A surprise spare weapon, **_old man_**.”

 

Using all the strength you had left in your cells, you yanked the blade to the right and pulled it up, ripping his chest, neck and head in half; blood and broken bones and skin bits flying everywhere. There was an explosion of scarlet light and then his carcass fell to the floor, motionless.

 

Almost instantly, your own body went from weighting a ton to seemingly as light as a feather, as if knowing your job was done, and you stumbled to the side, falling with your back on the floor. One dull, humorless laughter freed itself from your lips, a steady flow of warm blood seeping out of the exposed wound with every heartbeat, and the grey, distant sky seemed to embrace your body as you closed your eyes, consciousness slowly leaking through the cracks at the boundaries of your mind.

 

_“Heh… Guess what… Garth? … It…”_

**_…It worked._ **

****

**_…I actually killed the goddamn reaper._ **

****

You were expecting to be thrown in Hell once a brand new reaper showed up to collect your soul and learned the precise reason why you were dead in the first place. But once again, you didn’t know if they would actually bother to go to Purgatory to reap souls, especially the soul of a hunter who had just killed one of their kind. You’d be condemned to wander as a spirit for the rest of your days, and the thought of slowly becoming one of those self-deprecating, revengeful bastards until your latent anger consumed your own _post mortem_ existence didn’t please you at all.

 

A smaller part of you, more on the positive and cheerful side, hoped you’d arrive to your personal Heaven, where a grumpy Bobby would be expecting you with a tight hug and an _“Idjit”_ in his mouth just for you. Maybe you’d even be able to sniff the sweet aroma of your mother’s strawberry pancakes one more time, or see your beloved pet hamster that had died when you were still in middle school.

 

… ** _He_** was the one you wanted to see the most, though; hopefully also waiting for you with open arms and that beautiful accent you adored.

 

_It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the real one, or if what you’d find would be just a projection of your memories about him. It would still be too good to be true._

 

What you didn’t anticipate, however, was to be woken up to the sound of running water, not so far-away from where you were, judging by the loudness of the stream crashing against the rocks. Nothing seemed more difficult in your entire existence than opening your eyes at that point. They felt heavy and uncooperative, and you were positive there was still a sharp pain resonating from your right hand, although it felt as if someone else had immobilized it while you were knocked out.

 

Several minutes later of just breathing and allowing your brain to enjoy the serenity of your postsleep, you finally mustered up the willpower needed to lift your eyelids; the same colorless, lifeless sky beyond announcing that it still wasn’t the right time to enjoy the afterlife you were dreaming of. Making a grimace, you groaned, shifting to a sitting position under the protest of most of your muscles; your entire body feeling dense, sore and unwilling to do anything besides lying back in its previous resting position.

 

On the corner of your peripheral vision, you spotted the improvised curative holding your wrist and hand still and together, covering completely the nasty injury the reaper had left behind. You sighed, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes with the back of your good hand and took your time to observe your surroundings: tall trees spread ahead, forming a sad, almost dead forest; the pair of clean angel blades placed next to your hips; a mysterious black pea coat on the ground, folded to serve as a pillow while you were sleeping and the crystal-clear river stridently making its way through the slippery stones.

 

Nothing quite seemed to have brightness or vivacity of their original colors, even your skin. It was just like a monotonous, faded dead nature painting hanging on the walls of a different dimension.

 

If anything, that place looked way too calm to be the _Purgatory_ you had heard of.

 

“Y’know, whatever it was that you were huntin’, you got ‘im good. Didn’t expect you to be able to cause such damage, and with a broken hand, on top of that.”

 

An exquisite chill, unlike anything else you had ever felt before, made every single hair on your body stand, for reasons that were _completely_ different than fear, shock or disgust. You head snapped at the direction of the velvety, provocative voice you were _dying_ deep inside to hear again since ages ago, and to confirm your suspicions, there stood the only man in many years that truly made your heart race just by standing next to you, giving you a quick peek of that gorgeous, unique crooked smile of his.

 

Ignoring your obvious astonishment, he just kept talking, his feet bringing him closer to you with every step.

 

“The guy’s face was barely recognizable as human, torn in half from the chest up ‘n all that. Gotta say I’m glad I’m not your foe.”

 

You rubbed your eyes again, secretly wishing that the vampire standing there, at least, was not a product of your fertile, needy imagination. You had had a sufficient dose of weirdness for the rest of the year already, _thank you very much_.

 

_“…Benny?”_

He looked down at himself, raising one eyebrow at you and opening his arms, as if presenting his everything for your eyes to peruse, at your leisure, his authenticity.

 

“In flesh, bones and fangs, darlin’. Just the way you like it.”

 

You didn’t know when, nor could explain why the soreness of your muscles had vanished all of a sudden, and before words could form in your throat, your arms were already tightly wrapped around his midriff and your face hidden in his broad chest. For a while, you didn’t need to say anything; just as much as he didn’t have to ask anything. Yet, you felt yourself smile upon hearing his light-hearted chuckle and feeling his warm, muscular arms enveloping you in a perfect, safe hug; his breath so close to your ear that you’d have a hard time hearing the flowing river anymore, if you actually cared about it.

 

_“Welcome to Purgatory, sweetheart.”_

 

Yours and Benny’s relationship was… _Complicated_ , to say in the least.

 

The first time you saw him only happened because, out of the blue, Dean called you asking for help to _‘save a friend in trouble’_ , but each time you tried to get more detailed answers over the phone, like why Sam couldn’t help him or who the hell this mysterious friend was, all you were given back was a bunch of evasive retorts and a final, annoyed _‘Are you gonna help me or not, (Name)?’_ , to which, of course, you replied with a concerned _‘Yes, I’m on my way.’_.

 

You could only imagine what your face looked like when you discovered that the friend that Dean Winchester, _Mr._ _‘No-mercy-towards-supernatural-creatures’_ , had asked you to help saving was a **Vampire** , and that the reason why Sam couldn’t assist you both was because he was completely in the dark about this new friendship of Dean’s.

 

_“You want me to do **what**?!”_

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

_“(Name), listen…”_

_“No! Don’t you **‘(Name), listen…’** me, Dean! You’ve got to be kidding! You know too damn well that hunting vampires is my freaking specialty! I’m not gonna steal a freaking blood bank just to save some random new BFF you found on the street! This is absurd!”_

You remembered vividly his exasperated sigh, and how he chewed the internal walls of his cheeks as an escape vault not to yell at you while Benny was dying in his arms from blood loss.

 

_“Look, (Name), I’m only asking you because you’re the **only goddamn person** I trust in this world to do this for me. I know there must be a lot going on inside your head right now and I promise you I’ll answer all of your questions later. But, please… **Please** , help me with this.”_

 

You huffed and puffed like a bullheaded child that was just denied their favorite candy, but did it anyways. Being a man that keeps his words (most of the time), Dean told you about who Benny was and why they were friends at all; and you listened, skeptically, with your arms crossed and unreceptive mind, a fact that didn’t pass unnoticed by the dirty blond haired hunter, but before he could say something about it, or force you to understand it against your own beliefs, Benny placed a hand on his shoulder, convincing him to keep his composure. The vampire’s stare went from Dean to you, his pair of ocean blue eyes piercing into your soul.

 

_“Don’t argue with a lady ‘cause of me, brother. I’m thankful ‘nough she went out of her way to save a vampire.”_ , and he smiled at you, _“If you ever need anythin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask. I’m at your service, lady.”_

 

_“…Whatever you say, Benjamin.”_ , you slung your backpack over the left shoulder and turned on your heels to return to your car and head off as soon as possible, leaving them behind without looking back a single time, but still managing to hear their chatter from afar.

 

_“Don’t worry, Benny. She can be too thick-headed sometimes, but I swear she’s a nice girl.”_

 

_“…Yeah, I can see that, brother.”_

**_You hated him._ **

 

You hated how calm and composed he was. You hated how he gave you a beautiful smile even knowing your sole purpose in life was killing others like him. You hated how easily he broke the stereotype you helplessly clung to in order to justify your revulsion: vampires were nothing but mindless, arrogant and self-centered bastards willing to kill or turn humans into aberrations like them just for kicks, and it was your job to stop them.

 

_All vampires, but him._

 

But mostly, you hated yourself for finding him even remotely attractive, for getting his scent and his husky voice stuck in your head for weeks after that incident, for furtively hoping you would cross paths again someday; you, on the usual hunting business; him, searching for his maker.

 

And as a sign from God, if He was still out there somewhere, every now and then you would bump shoulders, sometimes at a nest you would both wipe out together for different reasons, sometimes at a bar to gather information about strange occurrences in the nearby vicinity. Benny was always the smooth, serene man from before, and whenever his thirst for blood would get too strong for him to keep his manners, he would excuse himself and feed on one of his stolen bags of donated blood out of your sight.

 

Eventually, you understood why Dean liked him so much and got used to his presence. Hell, **_you_** **_craved for it_** , and it, by some means, seemed to be mutual. Every time life got in the way and you had to go through more than a week without seeing a glimpse of each other’s faces, he would call you when it was already past midnight, apologize for bothering you so late and ask if you were sleeping, and each time you’d brush off his excuses and spend minutes, even hours, just chatting about your hunts, about his progress on locating and killing _The Old Man,_ about his job at the diner, about his newfound family.

 

When you finally realized what was going on, you were way past head over heels for him, but knowing how it could never be and how happy he seemed to be about having the beginning of a normal life again beside Elizabeth, his great-granddaughter, you chose to keep your feelings to yourself. Little by little, you stopped calling him, avoided hunting vampires and started focusing on _salt and burns_ and other creatures and, ultimately, changed your cell phone number, asking Dean not to give him the new one, if Benny were to ask him for it.

 

**_Leaving him behind was the most painful decision you’ve ever made._ **

 

For days, you cried alone in silence, locked in low-priced motel rooms, ignoring every supernatural occurrence brought to light by a local newspaper and just staring at your cell phone screen, as if Benny was supposed to magically figure out your new number or where you were at; and later, when the grief was replaced with widespread numbness, you sunk yourself into chained cases, one after another, with no time to rest or get sidetracked thoughts.

_It was for the best._

_Benny was a nice man, the best man you’ve ever met, in fact. He deserved to live a normal life with his family, and knowing how precious it was and how much you missed a family of your own, you figured it was not your place to interfere and force a hunter life on him just so you could be together._

_It was for the best. **Definitely for the best**._

 

“…I’m sorry, Benny. I… I screwed up everything, didn’t I? _For us…_ ”, you muttered, voice shaking here and there, as if you had spent a long time without using your vocal chords. All the while, you kept your eyes closed, afraid that he would vanish in-between your fingers if you dared to look at him. Softly, he placed a kiss on your left temple, both of his hands running up and down your back, slowly making you melt in his arms.

 

“S’Okay, sweetheart. I kinda gave up on tryin’ to understand you hunters and why you think you deserve less than everybody else a long time ago.”

 

You snorted, pushing him away playfully and enjoying the opportunity to get a good look at him. Aside from a couple scratches across his cheeks, a few dirty spots or dry bloodstains on his neck and Henley shirt, and his slightly grown, unruly hair, he looked just as strikingly handsome as you remembered him to be. As he got a hold of your unhurt hand, you were immediately reminded of your wound and how neatly it was taken care of.

 

“So, you took care of me, huh?”, and you lifted your wrapped hand to his eye level, “That’s so sweet of you, _darlin’_.”, you mimicked his accent and the affectionate way of calling you, another smile already on your lips. You were completely aware of how difficult it must’ve been for him to do that, and it only proved just how much of a powerful, unbeatable self-control he still had to resist his instincts of wanting to suck your blood dry.

 

He grinned smugly at you.

 

“Well, I ain’t no doctor, but after spending years here, the least you learn to do is sew a few stitches and improvise bandages when you have to.”, and he gave your healthy hand a light squeeze, receiving a one back, shock emerging to your features once more when you finally noticed the major detail about that insane meeting.

 

“Benny?”

 

“Yes, darlin’?”

 

“…Why are you in Purgatory? I thought you were in Louisiana, working at the diner with Elizabeth.”

 

Suddenly, he was at a loss for words, his azure orbs breaking the connection with yours to glance up at the sky. You could hear the gears in his brain tick with each passing second, and for the first time since you two had met, he seemed unsure about how to answer one of your questions.

 

“A lot happen’d and I had to leave. I should’ve known it was no longer my home after fifty years away; I just didn’t belong anymore.”, there was a certain sourness in the way he smiled, yet his hand never left yours, his thumb caressing the back of it, “Then, Dean asked for help to save his lil’ brother from Purgatory, and we both know there’s only a one-way ticket for someone like me to get in.”, he shrugged, as if giving up on his life like that was the most common thing in the world, “But let’s not talk about this. We should get you outta here as soon as possible. I threw some junk covered with your blood in different directions a few miles away, but it won’t distract all the nasty creatures wandering around for too long. Humans are dainties here, darlin’. Your blood is gold, they can hear you breathin’ and your heart beatin’; I bet some can even smell you from the other side of this monster deposit, **_I know_** **_I can_** , which is why I found you, in the first place. So, let’s not waste more precious time talkin’ ‘bout good ol’ me.”, and he released your hand, retrieving his pea coat from the ground and giving you back the angel blades.

 

It felt as if an era had passed by and you were left behind, frozen in time, with a million questions popping inside your head. However, you knew he was right, that Purgatory wouldn’t be that calm forever and that you had to move on.

 

Quietly, you watched him put his tattered coat back on, his back turned at you, repentance washing over you from head to toes. If only you knew what he had gone through after you disappeared from his life, if only you were by his side when he needed someone, if only you had asked him _what he wanted_ instead of getting attached to what you thought he wanted back then, maybe, _just maybe_ , none of you would be there right now.

 

With a twisted smirk, you thought to yourself that you weren’t so different from the self-loathing ghosts you were previously bashing, after all.

 

“Should we get goin’? How does your hand feel?”

 

As soon as he was done redressing properly, you approached him and grasped his hand in yours once again. An abrupt jolt of courage filled your quintessence with an ardent, daring sensation, and you finally felt like taking your chances to do something that you should’ve done a long time ago. Wordlessly, you watched him eye you coming nearer with curiosity until your bodies were distant from each other only by a hair’s breath, and gingerly, you pressed your lips against his, your breathing evading through your nostrils while he, on the other hand, took a sharp intake of oxygen into his empty lungs.

 

At first, he just stood there, the muscles in his arms and wide shoulders stiff as your hand released his, traveling upwards to wrap your arm around his neck, the injured one searching for rest on his shoulder; and then, he finally relaxed, allowing his arms to bring you closer by the waist and press you lovingly against his own body, almost lifting you off the ground. His tongue found no resistance whatsoever to enter your mouth and relish in your taste, and what started as a chaste, undemanding kiss soon became a possessive exchange of passion and coarse lip biting from both parts, with one of his hands sneakily moving up to hold a fistful of your hair, the lustful kiss only ceasing minutes later, when your lungs were screaming for air.

 

Even then, you held yourselves close to each other, rushed respirations colliding, the tip of his nose brushing with yours, and when you opened your eyes, you were graced with the sight of his beautiful, glistening blue irises; a vision that brought an inevitable smile to your face.

 

There was no sense in lying to yourself or to him anymore. Benny was the man that you loved, vampire or not, and you wouldn’t risk losing him a second time now that you had him by your side again.

 

“Lead the way, Benny.”

 

He chuckled tenderly and winked at you, brushing his fingertips on the sensitive skin at back of your neck, making you shiver under his touch, and quickly searching for your lips with his all over again, lingering for only a couple seconds this time.

 

“After _this_? I’d lead you all the way through **_Hell_** if you wanted me to.”

 

“Be careful with what you say, mister. Or you might end up winning my heart with all this smooth talk.”, you bit his lower lip teasingly, earning a low groan as reward.

 

“I don’t mean to give out too much, but that was my whole purpose all along, darlin’. Or did you think I’d really offer my _services_ to any hunter who happen’d to save my neck just because she was Dean’s friend? I’m a **_vampire_** , not a knight in shinin’ armor.”

 

You laughed freely at that. It wasn’t exactly in your plans to discover that raw side of his so soon; but hey, you weren’t the crazy one to deny that his indirect confession sounded **_hot as hell too_**. Reluctantly, he released you, reiterating his previous advice about you really needing to flee as quickly as possible, and you nodded, using your working hand to handle the angel blade just in case he needed backup on the way.

 

For days, maybe weeks – you didn’t know anymore –, you walked through swamps, clearings, never-ending forests and dense fogs, all the while slaying multiple creatures that were either charmed by your human-scented blood or just looking for a good, purposeless fight. The last ones, as Benny told you, were more than common and the main reason why Purgatory had such a bad reputation among all sorts of existing realms, most of which were unknown or just superficially referred to by the still conscious living things he had crossed paths with in the past.

 

“The longer you stay in Purgatory, the deeper its senseless killin’ grows on you. At some point, you just stop questionin’ what’s going on and start picking fights with other damn’d souls yourself.”, he half-grumbled it to you, the nerves and muscles of his jaw tensing up with every word, “I don’t know about Hell, but this place sure ain’t pretty either.”

 

His words saddened you as you grasped his involuntary self-condemnation in-between the lines. One of the things you had noticed whenever he spoke about the other Purgatory inhabitants was that there was never anger in his voice. It was almost like, deep down, he pitied them, like he understood that most of them didn’t have a choice in being who or what they were; and now, there was no prospect of Heaven waiting for them either, only an eternal loop of lost battles, until they were reduced to no more than mindless killing machines and their souls would become too rotten to find salvation someday.

 

“Benny…”

 

To think that he felt so dissociated from Earth to the point of preferring to return to Purgatory mirrored how lowly he regarded himself as a worthy creation. In a way, hunters and creatures were the same: two misplaced kinds, living in a world of their own, suitably located in a blind spot of the oblivious preponderance of mankind, and you could understand his feelings more than he knew.

 

“We’re here, sweetheart. All you gotta do is climb that hill and enter the portal; you’ll end up somewhere in Maine, or so Dean told me. I couldn’t really see anythin’ that well from where I stood.”

 

Your train of thought got interrupted by a blinding, electric blue light shining at the top of a rocky elevation ahead; dry leaves, small stones and its adjacencies being sucked into the known destination. You turned to him, heart pounding loudly in your chest.

 

“Okay, so what did Dean do to get you out of here as well? Teach me, so I can do the same.”

 

He sighed profoundly, putting his hands in his pockets, skin gleaming with beads of cold sweat. His gaze was averted from yours, showing that the vampire was mulling over your question as if it was a proposal instead of a certainty. And you felt a painful twist inside your body at that, heartbeat racing to astronomic levels.

 

_Why was he taking so long to answer? Did he forget the procedure, the spell or something?_

_“Ben—“_

 

“You should go alone, (Name).”

 

Your mouth dried and your beating heart overtook the outer sounds in your eardrums, the grip on the angel blade tightening. Furrowing your brows, you shook your head several times and opened and closed your lips, but no words came out. There was a stinging ache blurring your vision as you fought back the beginnings of tears; and after a heartfelt, constricted sob, you found your voice again, albeit it sounded like nothing but a whisper.

 

_“…What? ...Why?”_

 

He lowered his head, staring at his worn-out shoes, a half-hearted laughter shaking his shoulders slightly as he did his best to keep his tranquility.

 

“I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to know that what I feel isn’t one-sided, and I’m certainly the luckiest man to ever walk on Earth after findin’ such a strong, smart, beautiful and determined woman who’s capable of lovin’ a monster like me. But that’s all I really am, darlin’…”, he shrugged, pressing his lips together and breathing intensely through his nose a few times in order to keep going, “ ** _A monster_**.”

 

You shook your head fretfully at that, your heart breaking under the misery reflected in his eyes, _“Benny, don’t—”_

 

“One day…”, he kept going, interrupting your speech midway, “I might wake up thirsty, out of myself, and kill you while you’re sleepin’; maybe do worse. There are always other vampires going after me, wanting to build new nests, to regroup and kill hunters. That’s why I had to leave Louisiana. That’s why I didn’t go back when Dean’s lil’ brother offered to hop me along. You’re never gonna be safe with me. Damn, I’m not even safe with myself…”, and when his voice cracked, he rubbed his fingers through his messy hair, finally finding in him the nerve to look at you again, “I don’t wanna burden you with all this, sweetheart. I sure as Hell tried to run from my past, from this atrocious thing that I became, but it was always a step ahead of me, remindin’ me that there ain’t no escape from that. You deserve better, so much better, than someone like me.”

 

Your weapon dropped from your hand, falling to the ground with a clanging sound, angry tears pooling at the corner of your eyes as you gritted your teeth, lunging yourself at him and holding him by the collar of his shirt, whilst pressing his back against a tree.

 

“You listen to me, **_you son of a bitch_** , and you listen well. I’m a hunter, I’m just as screwed up as you are on the inside and I’m never safe on a daily basis either. You’re **_not_** gonna make the same mistake that I did, and I don’t care if you think you’re a monster or not, ‘cause sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see is a freak myself; and you can be damn sure I’m capable of loving you enough for both of us. If I thought you were a monster or that you could ever hurt me, I’d never have helped Dean to save you, I’d never have worked with you, and I’d never have fallen in love with you.”, two trails of tears finally rolled down your cheeks, but you just brushed them away persistently with the bandages on your hand, “So don’t you dare telling me now, after all that we’ve been through, that I’m better off alone, because **_I’m not_**. I felt miserable when you were not around, I still regret to this day not telling you that I love you before, and when I thought I was gonna die here, all I wanted was to find _you_ in _my_ Heaven, so I could rest in peace knowing that I had you with me somehow. Now, either you go back with me or you’re gonna have to stand me here for the rest of your freaking days, because I‘m not gonna leave without you and screw up everything once more. You mean too much for me to do that.”

 

Your whole body was shaking, transpiring the humungous effort you were doing not to let the tears become an uncontrollable sobbing. One of his hands found the one you were holding him with, caressing it softly; the other crawling its way to cup your moist left cheek. Heaving a sigh, Benny leaned it, touching his forehead with yours, and kissed you slowly and apologetically. All the things he wanted, but didn’t know how to say, along with his genuine feelings and thoughts being slowly conveyed to you through that intimate, devoted act.

 

You could loosely perceive his hand start digging through the inner pockets of your jacket, your mind much more worried about kissing him back, about etching forever in your memories the feeling of his short beard brushing on your skin each time your lips moved together. When he found the spare angel blade, he used his other hand to roll your sleeve up and hold your injured arm still, his thumb pressing the tender spots on the inner forearm, until he stopped halfway from your wrist to your elbow bend.

 

A hiss of protest made you break the kiss, the needlelike blade easily tearing through your fragile skin in one clean cut across. Without breaking the eye contact, he rolled up his own coat sleeve of his opposite limb, doing the same to his forearm, “When you’re back in Maine, call Dean and ask him where he buried me. Then, find my body, cut your arm again, recite the resurrection spell and I’ll be all yours… Just make sure you don’t regret it afterwards.”

 

You giggled at the subtle hint of hesitation in his voice, shaking your head at his meaningless warning.

 

“That’s never gonna happen, Benny. You know that. You know **_me_** _._ ”

 

He smiled lopsidedly at you, taught you the steps you had to follow and, with a vigorous nod, you knew that, this time, it was the real deal.

 

_“See you on the other side, sweetheart.”_

 

You shared one last kiss, he whispered an _“I love you.”_ against your lips and held your arm onto his, making sure that the cuts were touching and your bloods were mixing with each other.

 

_“…Conjuncti sumus. Unum sumus.”_

The outlines of his body suddenly faded before your eyes, just like his firm grip on your arm, until his everything was turned into an ethereal, carmine formation of energy that was quickly sucked into the cut on your skin. You gasped, the impact of having his soul inside your body knocking the breath out of you, your hand intuitively grabbing the cut, pressing it between your fingers, as if it could soothe somehow the pain that was easily comparable to having your wrist broken again.

 

For a while, you stood still, breathing heavily until the cut disappeared and what remained was his bright scarlet, wrenching soul crawling under your skin.

 

Before another Purgatory creature could show up to ruin your plans, you grabbed both blades lying on the floor, hastily shoving them inside your pockets, where they belonged, and sprinted to the portal, sparing a single look back and promising yourself that you and Benny would never have to return to that place again. _Not on your watch._

 

The whirling wind whistled in your ears, strong beams of blue and white light making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open, and just as unexpectedly as it began, it disappeared, leaving you alone in the dark wilderness of a thick forest – Maine, you assumed.

 

Somewhere at your right, you could hear vivid chatter and electronic music blasting from presumably the speakers of amateurish stereo sound paraphernalia.

**_—Shine a light through an open door, love and life I will divide. Turn away, 'cause I need you more, feel the heartbeat in my mind.—_ **

Following the completely tuneless human voices singing along to the music, you felt your wrist start hurting again, like the soreness was somehow being held back previously by mystical properties in Purgatory. You rolled your sleeve back down, hiding Benny’s soul whilst entering a clearing full of teenagers dancing, drinking and having fun in the middle of nowhere.

 

**_—It's the way I'm feeling, I just can't deny, but I've gotta let it go. We found love in a hopeless place. We found love in a hopeless place...—_ **

You rolled your eyes at that, whispering to no one in particular, _“And afterwards, their parents ask me why their kids got killed by a wendigo or a werewolf. Who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to throw a party in a place like this?”_

 

The good prospect you had on your side was that every single person there looked too crazy, too drunk or too stoned to notice your presence. You took advantage of that opening, cunningly stealing the cell phone of a guy who was way busy making out with a girl to care, Dean’s main cell phone number popping on the screen as you typed the digits, pressing the device to your ear and hearing it ring twice before your call was answered.

 

_“—Hang on, Sammy… Yeah?”_

“I need Benny’s location, Dean, and I need it now.”

 

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, and you were about to check if the signal was cut when Dean’s voice, a good two octaves lower, replied to your question.

 

_“And who the hell is asking?”_

You groaned in frustration, walking a few steps away from the noise and music to hear him better, “It’s me, Dean! (Name)! Now, if you would stop being a jerk for two seconds and told me where you buried Benny before his soul rips its way out of my arm, I’d be grateful to you for the rest of my days… And thanks a lot for telling me he was _freaking_ _dead because **you** killed him_ , by the way. I totally didn’t have to figure it out on my own, back in _Purgatory_.”

 

He took a few seconds to digest your words and maybe try to guess where you were at from the sounds in the background as you paced back and forth, impatiently rubbing the sweat and dirt away from your face.

 

**_—Yellow diamonds in the light, and we’re standing side by side as your shadow crosses mine…—_ **

_“…Are you **drunk** , (Name)? Where the hell have you been, anyway? And how many times do I have to tell you you can’t hold your liquor even if your life depends on it and—”_

**“Dean! Benny’s grave location! _NOW_!”** , you snarled at him, and it was almost like you could hear him flinch on the other side and put his free hand up in defeat.

 

_“Alright! I get it, you’re not drunk! I’m sorry! I’ll tell you where he is, but you’re gonna have to give me a full report later about what the hell’s going on, did you hear me?”_ , you hummed your agreement into the phone speaker, _“Fine, grab a pen or just pay attention…”_

You listened to his directions carefully, memorizing every detail, every landmark, and thanking him afterwards. Dean only let you hung up the phone after you had promised three times that you were going to tell him where he could find you both and what had happened afterwards.

 

When you turned around to return the cell phone, you mouthed an _‘Ew’_ as you saw that the teenagers had advanced to second base quite well while you were gone, half of their clothes thrown in different directions as their bodies writhed together on the grubby ground. You simply shrugged, throwing the guy’s cell phone in your pocket, together with your own dead device, and walked away. _It could come in handy at some point._

 

Lots of walking later and after relying on the crappy GPS from the _‘borrowed_ ’ cell phone, your suspicions about the place not being easy in the slightest to find were confirmed. Still, you were lucky Dean had told you that Benny was buried not too long ago, and you managed to distinguish, after hours of aimlessly wandering and searching for Dean’s hints in the darkness, a spot with fluffy dirt, significantly different from the compacted ground surrounding it.

 

You probably cussed about a trillion times while you unburied Benny’s dead body, complaining under your breath that it was incredibly difficult to do it without a real shovel and with only one good hand, but when you hit something hard, the pain in your forearm heightened, making you forget the hardships of your job.

 

Deep inside, you knew it was Benny’s way of showing you that you had found him.

 

_“It’s really here, huh? Hang on, Benny. I’m almost done.”_

You rubbed affectionately the spot in your arm where his soul was nested, and with a kick, broke the coffin lid, moving it out of the way to find his body still pretty intact, aside from the beheading, of course. Puffing and disheveled, you sat on the edge of the unidentified grave, staring at the red light swirling frantically in your forearm.

 

With a smile, you gingerly cut the skin in the middle of the squirming protrusion, turning your arm around and letting the liquefied energy fall all over his body.

_“Anima corpori. Fuerit corpus totem resurgent.”_

 

That intense agony from when his soul entered your body revived, forcing you to hold your shoulder to keep the arm still while the spell did its work, your eyes shutting tightly. Electric sparks covered his body and the ground quaked, the nearby treetops wringing in the gush of wind. Then, it all came to a halt, only your anguished gasps reaching your ears.

 

You looked down.

 

_Benny’s body wasn’t there anymore._

Your head fell to the side, followed by your upper body, and you hit the ground with a dull noise. With each heartbeat, your broken wrist pulsated, injecting cadenced doses of fresh pain into your system; your breath still ragged and harsh.

 

“Come on, Benny. Please show up and tell me it worked.”

 

You dragged your hands closer to your face, ears perking up to the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. A failed laughter became a cough on the way out, and it took every ounce of you to roll your body, so you were lying on your back; his smiling face and the night sky above greeting your eyes.

 

“‘Course it worked, darlin’. I’d never lie to you ‘bout that.”

 

There he stood: staring down at you, his clothes looking impeccable, as if he had just exited a fancy Armani store. You raised your arms at him, silently asking him to lift you up, and he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, but obliging to your unspoken request nonetheless. Contrary to your expectations, he didn’t put you back on your feet, choosing to hold you in his arms, bridal style, instead.

 

You basked in his warmth, face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply his inebriating fragrance.

 

_It felt **so damn good** to be in his arms, like you should never do anything else anymore and just… Stay there._

 

“I’mma need to take you to a hospital. You should get that hand of yours looked at by a real professional, sweetheart.”

 

A nod was your only answer, along with your arms snaking around his shoulder; the fatigue from the precedent days taking over your being all at once. Slowly, you deactivated you alert mode and surrendered to the battle against sleep now that you felt safe and sound again, your eyelids getting too heavy to control. His shoes crushed the old leaves and sticks on the ground, serving as a sweet, constant lullaby, and your arms lost their strength as you muttered the last words before falling asleep.

 

_“…Welcome home, Benny.”_

You woke up four days later in a hospital bed, a proper cast immobilizing your broken wrist from the base of your fingers to the middle of your forearm.

 

The first thing you noticed was that Benny was also there, sitting on a chair beside you and holding your other hand caringly with a downcast gaze. His hair was still a bit grown and a slightly worn-out look contoured the edges of his face and his eyes, as if he hadn’t gotten his slice of sleep since you had returned from the other realm.

 

To show him you were fully conscious, albeit still a little groggy and disoriented from all the painkillers and sedatives pumped in your veins while you were passed out, you caressed whatever you could of his hands with your thumb, immediately capturing his full attention. Those two beautiful, deep cerulean pools in his eyes stared at your face with a mix of relief, longing and a thousand other emotions you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

 

_“Hey there, handsome. D’you come around here often?”_

He chortled at your awful pick-up line, the pearly white rows of human teeth showing between his parted lips. His messy hair was hurriedly hidden under his Greek fisherman hat, almost as if he was a little more self-conscious about looking sloppy next to you on Earth.

 

“Only when I have a really stubborn, short-fused and careless hunter to take care of. Anyone you know, darlin’?”

 

You rolled your eyes dramatically, scoffing at his payback and releasing your hand from his, extending your arm to reach for his face. A moment of silence ensued, he closed his eyes and relaxed his features as your fingertips traced every invisible battle scar, every line that described his past as a warrior of some sort, hoping to remove all the guilt weighting on his shoulders. Almost with surgical precision, you could notice the marks of unimaginable hardships he went through and that, unfortunately, were mostly unreachable, no matter how much you tried to make him forget about them.

 

He hadn’t told you a whole lot about his previous life before, and you never pressured him to do so. Yet, you knew there was much more to Benny than his sarcastic sense of humor and laidback posture in life. Things long lost in the past, things he was probably ashamed or afraid to confess from his times as a _‘Vampirate’_ , as Dean liked to call it. Nonetheless, if your presence was somehow capable of soothing his regrets, you’d make sure to show him crystal clear that you were there for him from now on.

 

“ ** _I love you, Benny_**. I said I wish I had told you sooner and I mean it. My heart, my soul, my everything… It’s all yours.”, you spoke with such incisiveness that it surprised even yourself. Benny looked at you again, the same disarray of feelings shining in his eyes as he got up from the uncomfortable chair, sat on the free spot beside you in bed and leaned in, kissing you passionately, your hand finding its way to hold him by the back of his neck.

 

He didn’t have to reply with words to show you he felt just the same. You could sense it by his warmth, by the way he squeezed you caringly in his arms, refusing to let go, by the latent want that he exhaled, which brought sparkles to your core and butterflies in your stomach whenever you dared to do something as simple as touch each other.

 

Like a kid with a present they couldn’t unwrap until Christmas, you wanted him more than anything else, but knew that was not the time, nor the place to pull him on top of you and consummate your feelings for each other, so you stuck to kissing, hugging and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears for as long as you were alone in the room. Every now and then, his lips would travel down your neck to nip, kiss and softly blow at your delicate skin, scratching his teeth teasingly over the pulsating arteries and chuckling quietly to himself whenever your pores prickled or you moaned lightly from the sensual torture.

 

_It felt dangerous, hot and only made you fortify your desire for him and the intense sexual aggravation painfully twirling inside your lower belly. He’d surely have to have a whole lot of stamina to handle you when you could get your hands freely all over him._

 

The doctor in charge of your case decided it’d be better to keep you under observation for a few more hours, considering how bad your wrist injury was, among all the bruises and scratches from when the reaper had thrown you across the office. Thanks to Benny making a couple phone calls, Dean, Sam and even Garth paid you a visit to know how you were doing. You traded tight hugs with the last two, but only after listening to Dean’s typical overprotective lecture about how dangerous it was to hunt a reaper alone, moreover when you didn’t know how to kill it, and how you should’ve asked them for help.

 

When the doctor finally discharged you, you parted ways with the three hunters, staying behind with Benny, who had, in the meanwhile, found a car nice enough to go by until you had your hands on your beloved wheels once again.

 

“This is for you.”, you placed a mysterious shoulder travel bag on his lap once you were inside his car, preparing to return to Missouri and retrieve your belongings, or at least your own vehicle, if the motel owner didn’t think you had left them behind and threw everything away. Benny’s hand curiously hovered over the zipper, not daring to open it yet.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Just a gift I thought you’d be in need of right now.”

 

When he opened it, a styrofoam box full of human blood bags conserved on ice graced his sight. He took a deep breath to control his instincts and stared at you in disbelief, eyebrows knitting.

 

“…You stole from the hospital’s blood stock to give me something to drink, _darlin’_?”

 

You nodded, smiling at him in the most innocent way possible.

 

“Like I said, you look like you need it. I know when you’re not feeling well just by the color of your face.”

 

He searched for any signs of discomfort or edginess in your behavior, but found nothing of the sort; just the same honest, carefree smile permanently etched to your face whenever he was around.

 

“You sure about this, sweetheart?”

 

“This is a part of you, just like walking or breathing. It’s no different from me eating food. So if I’m gonna accept you for you, it also includes what you feed on.”, you reassured him, stealing his hat to put it over your own head, “Go ahead and drink it up. If you really must, take it as retribution for saving my ass or for giving me a ride to get my precious car and guns back. Your call.”

 

The ex-vampirate stared back at the concentrated, deep red liquid, hearing his own heart thumping inside his ears. Swallowing soundly, he ripped open tentatively the beak of the bag, sucking the fluid into his mouth as if it was a life elixir. Minutes passed with you staring at him savor the taste of the bag content, whatever repulsion that once crawled inside you each time you pictured him drinking blood buried long gone in the past. If anything, you could only understand how nerve-racking it must’ve felt for him to stick around you, a bleeding mess, for that whole time.

 

You watched his nostrils flare and return to their normal size, his jaw clench with every gulp inserting the cool blood into his system again, bringing back a healthy color to his cheeks. He was a whole new man when his eyes were open and the bag was dry, a comfortable smile sprawling itself on his lips.

 

“Alright. Let’s get your car back.”

 

You grinned back, getting as comfortable as possible on the passenger seat, watching him put the bag away and turn the engine on, nostalgia blooming from the back of your brain and spreading into your bones, reminding you of the joyous times you had worked together.

 

Never before you felt like you belonged so well.

 

“Sure thing, _love_.”

 

Although you were still too fatigued to jump right back into the hunting business and just wanted to enjoy the first few days of recovery by spending your time doing whatever came to mind with Benny, you had to admit that the roads passing by as he drove to Missouri were like a siren call to you. Every mile crossed brought a strange sense of satisfaction to your heart, and the fact that all you had to do to see the love of your life, anytime you wanted, was simply tilt your head to the opposite side only made it better.

 

When the late night came, Benny said he was still in good condition to keep driving, but you insisted on getting some rest at the next available place along the way, knowing your presumption about him not getting a wink of sleep for the past four days was most likely spot-on, even if he vehemently denied it when you asked.

 

He drove for twenty more miles until a shaggy-looking motel popped up in the horizon, its neon signboards shining like a lighthouse amidst a sea of trees surrounding the lone building. As he parked the car, you picked up the few possessions you two had bought to suffice your needs for the next couple days, together with the mini blood bank inside the improvised thermal bag, and marched to the motel reception, finishing the bureaucratic renting procedure as soon as possible so you could go to your room and give Benny the rest he deserved so much.

 

Sure enough, he plopped himself down the right side of the surprisingly huge and comfortable bed you’d share in your slumber, a contented sigh making its way out of his guts as you finished placing the luggage on a corner of the disproportionally small room, watching him with a tiny smile.

 

“You could’ve told me you were tired from the beginning. It’s fine to take a break, Benny. I’m in no rush whatsoever.”

 

“I just happen to know how much you love your car and you want it back, sweetheart.”, he spoke from the bed, covering his eyes with the back of his forearm, not even bothering to take his pea coat off. Unconsciously, you licked your lips, staring at his chest rising and falling underneath the thin layer of his Henley and the hint of his v-line and abs after he pulled his shirt out of his trousers, though quickly shook your head to get the dirty thoughts out of your head as he kept talking, **_he needed to rest_** , “but if you insist, I ain’t gonna pass the chance to take a break for a couple minutes.”

 

“Take as long as you want, love. I’m gonna be right here.”, you chirped, deciding to take a shower while he rested. Leaving him in peace, you started digging through the bags, searching for that stupid shower glove you needed to wear in order to get rid of the stinky hospital smell glued to your clothes, skin and even your hair, but without ruining the cast. Five more minutes of sniffling yourself and you’d seriously start considering ripping off your nose.

 

After wordlessly searching inside every pocket and partition, you slapped your forehead, muttering a curse. **_Of course_** you’d forget in the car what you needed the most right now. Luckily enough, though, you didn’t have to bother Benny, who was apparently already sleeping, to ask him for the keys, since you easily spotted them placed in a bowl next to the door. As quietly as you could, you walked on your tiptoes towards the door and left to retrieve the glove from the car, taking the same care not to wake him up when you returned to the room.

 

Glove in hand and without thinking twice, you started to take your malodorous clothes off right there, back turned to the bed, getting rid of the jacket first, then pulling the white tank top over your head, placing everything on the nearby nightstand; the weather-beaten combat boots long forgotten next to the door. Your simple, milky white lace bra was a bit trickier to take off with only one hand, but it was soon discarded after a couple failed tries, followed by the pair of jeans, socks and panties.

 

Fully naked at last, you breathed in and trembled under the chilly air caressing your bare skin, making as little noise as possible to put on the plastic glove and protect your cast from the shower water, staring at yourself – bruises, scars and scratches included – with a wrinkled nose and a frown in the peeled mirror on the wall, evaluating the balance of damages you’d carry around, at least for a while, from your last mission.

 

_“Man, this looks ridiculous.”_

An unanticipated rough, low voice came from your left, making you jump and grab impulsively the nearest towel to cover yourself poorly with.

 

_“I beg to differ, darlin’. Your hand’s the last thing I’m interested in right now. Besides, it’s not like you don’t have another one properly functionin’ to join all the fun we could have together.”_

You were totally **not** expecting Benny to be awake, and it brought a hasty, inevitable blush to your cheeks. A huff of indignation gushed though your nostrils and you squinted hazardously at him, crossing your arms over your chest and above the towel.

_“Really, Benny? Pretending to be asleep to stare at a naked lady? What are you, **twelve**?”_

 

Your glare didn’t faze him in the slightest, much on the contrary. His eyes seemed to burn more now that he had you cornered, nude and vulnerable for him to do whatever he wanted. He chuckled daringly, getting up and approaching you with slow, calculated steps, watching you swallow expectantly and turn your body around according to his angle, hiding your privates and breasts from his ravishing, hungry gaze.

 

When you came to yourself, your back was pressed against the wall, his warm hands holding you by the waist and his lips hovering over your parted ones. Your body was on fire by his prurient stare only, and you feebly pressed your knees together, as if it could hide from his inquisition your state of arousal or the wetness starting to gather between your legs.

 

_“Try adding a few decades to that, darlin’. Like seven, maybe eight.”_

He brushed his lips, teeth and nose on your jaw line, pressing his hard body against yours close enough for you to feel the volume of his impressive, meaty erection through his trousers and the towel keeping you apart. You bit your lower lip to avoid any sound from coming out, your hands giving up on holding the fluffy fabric and sliding up his arms to hold him by his shoulder as you mustered up your rapidly dropping level of full consciousness to try and come up with a sassy remark.

 

_“Woah, gramps. I didn’t know you were **that** old—Ahh!”_

A half-gasp, half-moan interrupted your speech when he turned you around with one swift motion, placing his boner between your ass cheeks and rubbing it mischievously in a slow, torturous pace. You watched from the edge of your vision his eyes blazing with desire and a predatory smile becoming your entire world as he growled huskily against your ear, hands moving to the front of your body to cup your breasts, kneading them softly and earning a heated moan of yours again as reward.

_“No more smart-mouthed retorts, darlin’. Just lemme do my job to please you.”_

Searching for support on the wall with your forearms, you raised your hips and started to move them in a circular, clockwise motion, rubbing back your ass against his full cock length. Benny grunted ardently on your earlobe, his face disappearing from your sight as he started to leave harsh love bites at the back of your neck and flicker the tip of his tongue to smear his saliva over your newly bruised skin. His thumbs and forefingers began to play with your perky nipples, pinching, squeezing and almost driving you insane.

_“B-Benny… Wait.”_ , you pleaded, proceeding even after he had clearly chosen to ignore your failed attempt to sound like you didn’t want him to take you right there, right now, _“My hair is a mess and I… Hah—P-probably still stink of cleaning products, medication and… Oh, God!”_ , you left your sentence hanging in the air, unable to finish; pressing your forehead against the wall and closing your eyes. You could sense him taking a deep sniff of your neck scent, a satisfied purr lingering in your throat as he got harder and harder against you due to your ministrations.

_“Nonsense. You look and smell fantastic to me, like always. But if you want it so bad, we can take this to the shower. I really don’t mind.”_

His hands left your breasts for a quick moment and you heard his coat fall to the floor, still managing to find inside you the nerve to laugh lowly.

 

_“You’re not… Gonna let this slide, are you?”_

_“ **Never**. Unless you want me to.”_ , he answered decisively, yet attentive to your innermost, real desires, turning your head to the side and pressing your lips together in a careless, needy and messy kiss. The hand that wasn’t holding your face slid down your stomach to find its nest between the folds of your pussy, making you moan louder into his mouth, open your legs wider and shudder under his expert touch enticing your pleasure bud with steady, round motions. His fingers were soon coated with a thick layer of your excitement fluids, playing closer to your entrance, but not quite penetrating it, _“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now that you found out I’m probably a bigger bite than you can chew, huh, sweetheart?”_

What he said was the trigger you needed to turn the tables, escape from his much stronger grasp and press **him** against the wall instead; an out-of-control, primal hiss coming from your lips as he watched you with that same cocky, brash smile of his from whenever he succeeded at pushing your buttons just right.

 

_“We’re so taking this to the fucking shower now, you manipulative bastard.”_

_“…Now, that’s more like what my naughty, sexy hunter would say.”_

He winked at you and, immediately, your hands and mouths were all over each other’s bodies. Piece after piece of clothing, you disrobed the astonishingly warm vampire, throwing his shirt somewhere behind you and helping him get rid of the trousers pooling around his ankles and his shoes and socks that **_just wouldn’t come off_** if he tried to do it by himself.

When he was in his birthday suit as well, you placed your hands on his biceps and took a step back to admire his body. His breath was short, eager and irregular, but he stood in place, allowing you to satiate your longtime curiosity about what he looked like underneath so many layers of clothing.

 

As you expected, he was all muscles, rough edges and undiluted masculinity, emanating a raw beauty so strong that it was the first reason that made you fall for him almost a year ago. Between his legs, a hefty erection sprung freely to awareness, twitching and leaking a considerable amount of precum that ran down the belly of his cock all the way to the base, and you wondered if you’d be able to take it all, especially with your sex life not being **_that active_** , moreover if compared to other hunters’ like Dean Winchester.

 

“Am I as good as you imagin’d, sweetheart?”, a good-humored smile curved his lips after his unabashed question. You shook your head slowly, staring at him with earnest adoration sparkling in your eyes.

 

“…No. You’re much, much better, _love_.”

 

He snarled crudely at your response, his powerful hands grabbing your ass without previous warning to lift you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck right away, kissing him to a bruising point, but thinking in the back of your mind that it still wasn’t enough. You only noticed you were already in the bathroom when another cold wall touched your back and you gasped into the kiss, your body being forcefully sandwiched between his almost unbearable skin heat and the iciness of the baby blue tiles on the wall.

 

The metallic sound of a faucet being opened broke the lewd symphony of gasps, huffs and moans you swapped, prior to the hot shower water starting to fall upon your writhing bodies, but it wasn’t enough to disturb your soul-connecting kiss. You clawed at his broad back and gnawed at his lower lip, rocking your pelvis so the tip of his cock brushed at all the sensitive outer spots of your pussy. Everything felt so surreal, so intense that, sometimes, your body moved on its own, fueled purely by your passion, and so did his.

 

“ _Take me_ , Benny… Make me scream your name so loud that I can’t speak for a week.”

 

His eyes suddenly darkened, all the traces of playfulness disappearing from his features as wanton lust took their place. He blinked away a couple persistent streaks of the shower water running down his eyelids, and in a heartbeat, his manhood was deeply plunged into the moistness of your nether region, making you cry from pleasure and throw your head back against the tiles, your sex quivering and squeezing around his thick girth, almost violently throwing you over the edge right from the start.

 

He groaned in fulfillment, panting and waiting patiently for your pulsing inner walls to stretch and adjust to his size, his mouth ravishing your neck and leaving a lot more bruises and teeth marks before moving down to such eagerly on your left nipple, circling it with the pointy tip of his tongue, all the while staring at the look of utter bliss on your face.

 

_“Damn… You’re so tight it almost hurts…”_

_“Oh, Benny…”_ , you mouthed, embracing him delicately and grinding your hips against his when you were well-adjusted to his cock. The vampire, not willing to waste more of your precious time, sunk his fingers into the supple skin of your buttocks, setting a demanding, rhythmically animalistic pace to fuck you with, his hips slapping soundly against your clit in the most delicious, uncontrolled ways, quickly turning you into a whimpering, wailing and wet mess desperately grasped onto him, as if your life depended on it.

 

Your lips met again and you surrendered to his consuming mightiness, letting him explore, taste and mark as his every corner of your mouth, every now and then sucking on your tongue. You ran your fingers possessively through his hair, begging for more and shuddering when he changed the angle to hit your g-spot with every vigorous thrust of his pelvis.

 

_“I-I’m so close…”_ , you mewled against his lips, opening your eyes to find him glowering right back at you, his gruff voice taking over your senses.

 

**_“Not yet.”_ **

****

His solid command made your eyes go wide and a moan of complaint leave your throat when the tempo of his hips decreased a notch, keeping you in the frustrating limbo between the so desired orgasm and painful arousal. You whined his name in protest, the nails of your unprotected hand sinking into the flesh of his shoulder, but he just bit your lower lip exigently, repeating his order in that same deep, sultry tone.

 

_“ **I said** **not yet**. Did you hear me, **sweetheart**?”_

Something in the way his pet name for you rolled out of his lips only added fuel to the fire, but you complied to his wishes, quietly nodding in approval and closing your eyes before you could catch a glimpse of his satisfied, devious smirk.

 

_“…You’re such a good girl.”_

For what felt like a perpetuity, he kept speeding up and strengthening his thrusts until you were ready to come, only to go back to a mean, provoking pace that only served to build you up, but not to give you the release you needed. And you’d indubitably marvel at the impressive strength of his arms for holding you for so long if your brain could think of anything else besides the dangerous level of arousal pooling deep within your core.

 

Your voice started to fail, moan after moan drying your throat until you decided to bite your lower lip to muffle the erotic sounds, tearing through the swollen skin and drawing a bit of blood.

 

To your surprise, his teeth captured your bleeding lip in-between, sucking on the crimson substance until his vampire fangs were visible. You were far too lost to care and just went along with it, kissing him with fangs and everything, buckling your hips and squeezing his cock with your pussy walls whenever he pulled out of you, leaving only the tip inside to slam right back in with such strength that your back was long numb from the pressure of his body on yours.

 

From your lips, his fangs descended to your neck, biting and scratching, but never going as far as to take a single drop of blood from you. In one last plea, you turned your face to the side, panting and mewling, barely able to keep your eyes open or hold him properly anymore.

 

_“…Benny. **Please** … I can’t…”_

He smiled at you, also out of breath, pressing his lips onto your ear and whispering the words you wanted to hear so much, thrusting erratically into you.

 

**_“Come for me, sweetheart.”_ **

****

Your eyes instantaneously rolled into the back of your head, body locking around his, convulsing and trembling as the earth-shattering orgasm took control of your senses. With no voice left to moan or scream, a soundless sigh escaped your lips as your vision went white, your ears capturing, in the far distance, his guttural groan as he gave into the sensual torment of your squeezing walls around his dick and spilled his seed deep into you, pressing his forehead on your shoulder and standing still, waiting for the prolonged post-orgasmic numbness to pass.

 

You didn’t know for how long you just stood there, catching your breath to the sound of the running water that kept your bodies warm. Your hand went back to his scalp, drawing small circles with your fingertips as a small laugh came from your lungs and you softly bit into his shoulder.

“Just throwing my two cents in, but I think we should definitely take **everything** to the shower from now on.”

 

Once his respiration was steady, he laughed with you, raising his head to steal a soft kiss from your lips, his fangs well-hidden once again.

 

“I’mma take your word for that one, darlin’, but don’t make promises you can’t keep or I’ll have to make you keep them myself.”

 

The tranquility of that moment wouldn’t last forever, both of you knew that. Soon, you’d be back to never-ending hunts, risking your lives, hopping from one cheap motel room to another and living mostly on convenience store foods. That was all you could offer him for now, but the loving way with which he stared at you showed he didn’t care in the least about it, and he’d do it all over again to be by your side, if necessary.

 

“Oh, you just watch me, **_love_** _.”_

 

For the first time, he was at home in your arms, feeling he truly belonged somewhere, and he was **_damn sure_** he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.


	2. Welcome Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to ["Welcome Home"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6045888), and it follows the lives of Benny and the Reader while they work together as hunters after coming back from Purgatory.
> 
> I guess I just wrote this part to give the story a sense of closure, and to provide the readers with a little snippet of the Reader's past.
> 
> Based on the following imagines by Dirty Supernatural Imagines:
> 
> ["Imagine Benny eating you out for hours, and then, when he's finally done, he looks up at you and smirks smugly"](http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/87250158175/source).
> 
> +
> 
> [“Imagine making slow, sweet love with Benny Lafitte and him referring to you as 'Kitten'"](http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/89593646535/source).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the first part, this was written a year ago. So please read this with an open mind. If you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll fix them right away!
> 
> Feedback is, as usual, much loved and appreciated!
> 
> My tumblr: [YurikoSPN](http://yurikospn.tumblr.com)

It was a dream, a product of your subconscious, you were aware of that. But repeating it to yourself like a mantra served to the sole purpose of turning the experience into something more lifelike and made it happen exponentially more often than it did before.

 

_“…That’s it. I can’t understand this stuff. I give up!”_

Ever since you had been gone to another realm and back, you felt you had the right to name your Dreamland as a personal little piece of **Purgatory**. After all, one would think that now that you weren’t wandering across the country alone anymore, you would have broken the chains tying you to the miserable memory that stalked you for many years, never truly letting you sleep in peace.

 

But, boy, were you wrong about it.

 

_“Be patient, dear. All you have to do is try again. Come on, from the beginning…”_

You had lost count on how many times you stuck out that situation before, standing in the middle of the cozy living room of your previous and only home, unable to move, while staring at your thirteen year old version doing advanced algebra homework at the couch with the aid of your deceased mother.

 

“This is not real, (Name). Wake up… Wake up, damn it!”

 

…She had always been **beautiful** , your mom, in every possible way. And you were proud to say you had inherited many of her traits, personality-wise also, though your heart was significantly shadier in comparison after the tragedies that took your family away or the ruthlessness you had grown used to in order to stay alive ‘til every next morning in the hunting business.

 

_“No way! That’s it?”_

_“Yes, see how simple it is? Now try to do the next one by yourself while I go grab us something to eat.”_

_“Sure, mom! Thanks!”_

The recurring nightmare never lasted more than a few minutes, and it was the only one to fill your nights, for some reason. Your younger self would immerse back into homework as soon as your mother’s explanation was over. She would hug your juvenile projection afterwards with that bright smile of hers, muttering into her hair how much she loved you and how she couldn’t live without you, sauntering away afterwards to get some quick snacks in the kitchen.

 

It was tragically humorous to think that you felt the same, yet your teenage self, the one your mother could actually hear, never told her that in the memory. She was too busy keeping her nose buried in that stupid book; and now, you were the only remaining part of that once inseparable duo on Earth, stuck in an excruciating loop on the rare nights you could have more than a dreamless sleep, one-sidedly speaking to the fragment of a remembrance that was oblivious to your presence.

 

_If only she could see how much you missed her…_

 

“…I love you too, mom.”

Those words hardly had time to finish crossing the barrier of your lips as the thoroughly known sound of dishes breaking, flesh tearing and your mother screaming pierced into your ears. You could hear your frantic heartbeat inside your eardrums and the breath hitching in your throat; an irrational fear of something you’ve killed many times in the past freezing your muscles to a hurting point.

 

_“Mom? Mom, what’s going on?! Mom!”_

Every time, you tried to close your eyes before the pureblood werewolf would enter the living room, holding something that closely resembled half of a human heart in his right hand, your mother’s blood dripping from his chin and neck. And every time, you failed miserably in doing so, watching from a deluxe seat as the thing laughed and bared his teeth at the other you, who was screaming and cowering with the thick book on top of her head, back in a time when you were still unaware of the horrors that wandered out there in the dark.

 

_“My, my… Look what we have here. That motherfucker even has a kid. That’s just wonderful.”_

 

_“Stay away from my daughter, you son of a bitch!!!”_

The aggravated voice and loud steps of your father came from the doorway behind you, but you didn’t bother turning around, knowing by heart everything he would do. He trampled right through you as if you were a ghost, emptying his gun at the creature. The silver ammo trespassed the werewolf’s heart accurately as he made a bestial noise and fell, dead and studded with bullets on the antique tapestry.

 

_“…D-dad?!”_

He grabbed the other you by the left shoulder harshly, a thousand emotions mingling on his face.

 

_“Are you hurt, (Name)? Where’s your mother?”_

You would later discover that your father was a drop-out hunter, who had abandoned his career to begin a family with your mother, keeping her protected from his past until that dreadful day. But back then, it was clear that you were confused as to how he wasn’t losing his mind about what the hell had just happened.

_“Dad, w-what was th—”_

**_“ANSWER ME!”_** , he reiterated with a roar, and the present you also recoiled with the power of his shout. When the only answer he got was a silent, negative headshake and a finger pointing to the opposite direction, he stormed off to the kitchen, but even you knew there was not a chance your mother was still alive back then. The desperate cry of your father confirming the low hopes hanging by a thread within your heart were useless.

 

Your mother was dead. Murdered by what you still didn’t know to be a werewolf, and all you could do was watch it on repeat, time after time.

 

The bad dream came to an end with a last sight of you weeping into your hands as your father brokenly screamed your mother’s name over and over again from somewhere you couldn’t see. Silently, you woke up and opened your eyes, too desensitized to come undone in tears about it for the thousandth dawn.

 

Saluting your restless gaze, the bright red numbers on the alarm clock twinkled in the darkness as you slowly recognized your surroundings to be another cramped motel room you were staying in for the night.

 

_5:54… 5:55… 5:55…_

You smiled to no one in particular, proud of the useless talent you had of waking up precisely five minutes before the alarm clock went off every day. Yawning, you began the morning physiotherapy routine on your wrist, rotating it clockwise several times and opening and closing your hand into a fist to force the tendons and nerves to stretch, only to do it all over again, counterclockwise.

 

Two months had passed since you successfully brought Benny back from Purgatory. Your wrist was much better, but still not the same; and it hurt like hell during cold mornings. It was an aftermath, according to the doctor, that would follow you for a lifetime, given that your bones were broken and rejoined, not just displaced.

 

On the back of your hand and the forearm joint, countless small scars formed soft protuberances that looked like lightning strikes in a heavy, thunderous sky. It’d actually look pretty cool, if it wasn’t for the piercing pain you had to tolerate every so often.

 

_‘Oh, well’_ , you thought, _‘What’s one more to the increasing collection that comes with being a hunter, anyway? At least this one has a nice ‘happy ending’ touch to it.’_

 

The brawny arm wrapped tight around your waist from behind released you to take your hand captive, bringing it to its owner’s lips as said man proceeded to leave a trail of feather-light kisses on your damaged skin. You turned your body a little, lying on your back, and smiled at your warm vampire, snuggling as close to him as possible to share a heat under the blankets that only naked skin on naked skin could provide.

 

“Good morning, handsome.”

 

_“Still hurtin’, darlin’?”_ , Benny’s voice was low and hauled with sleepiness, but he still managed to sound concerned about you, his gaze full of love and worry. You nodded, caressing his face with the back of your hand; his short, well-kept beard leaving a tingling sensation on your skin.

 

“Just a bit. But, hey, I have _you_. A little pain won’t ruin my mood.”, you chirped, trying to sound positive, and he chuckled at you, bringing his face closer to yours to claim your lips as his into a heated, but slow kiss. Lazily, he explored your mouth, sucking on the bottom lip, taking his time to caress your tongue with his, while his arms snaked their way around your body again and you hugged him by the neck, humming contentedly into his mouth, running your fingers through his scruffy hair.

 

You never knew on the spot what to expect when it came to making love with Benny, and you loved that more than you dared to admit.

 

Sometimes, he was borderline ferocious, authoritative, and the sex was full of reciprocal biting, nail scratching and countless mind-breaking orgasms as he mercilessly pounded into you and controlled your needs, keeping you on the brink until you screamed and begged him to give you the release you desperately wanted. That particularly intemperate lovemaking was, at all times, followed by cuddling and his honeyed words that were there to bring you back from the fleeting submission; to show you that, above everything, Benny cherished your love and your devotion just as much as you treasured his own.

 

On other days, he reminded you of the first impression you had had of him: calm, level-headed, his almost uncontrollable instincts being held back as he unhurriedly explored your body, caressed your battle scars and stimulated your weak and erogenous spots, putting your needs before his. He would kiss you slowly, touch you tenderly and make love to you with adoration gleaming in his lust-widened pupils, as if you were the biggest preciousness of his current and past lives.

 

The only sign you had to identify his spirits was his chosen pet name for you, a small trait that flourished with time. _‘Darlin’’_ was simply neutral, his default word to use instead of your name. If he happened to call you _‘Sweetheart’_ , you knew you could expect almost animalistic sex ahead of you; but were he to name you his _‘Kitten’_ with that deep, southern sultry accent of his and it was all up to you choosing whatever you wanted to do with him. You’d have his unconditional, loyal obedience, something that compelled you to fall for him much deeper than you thought you could.

 

Benny was, after all, a goddamn **_vampire_** , a strong creature that could overpower your nude, horny form in bed every day, but not without one hell of a good fight if you were willing to put your heart into it. Still, he willingly shared the leashes of that intense relationship with you, placing his life in your hands with no hesitation. And it was more than you expected or were given in the joke of a love life you had had in the past.

 

More than you could ever ask for.

 

“Good to know, **_sweetheart_**.”, he muttered against your mouth, while you just sighed in reply, more worried about savoring his taste or relishing in the ever-present greediness with which he kissed you, easily dominating your tongue and eliciting a moan of sweet defeat and ecstasy from you.

 

In no time, you felt his hardening length rubbing against the side of your thigh, until he moved on top of you, finding a place for his hips in-between the hotness of your legs. Your hands were everywhere they could reach: his hair, face, neck, shoulders, chest, back and muscular arms; touching and leaving nail marks in their wake. His bigger, calloused digits found your soft breasts, kneading them ravenously as his lips neglected yours to violate your neck. Leaving a path of open mouthed kisses behind, he sucked and nibbled persistently on a single spot as his thumbs encircled your nipples, bringing them to a stiff point.

 

A lascivious moan exited your lips and you threw your head back on the pillow, shivering as his vampire teeth sprung to life, traveling down your torso to give attention to your feminine mounds. “Oh, God, _Benny_ …!”

 

You locked the heels of your feet at the back of Benny’s knees, searching for a more comfortable, yet revealing position for your legs around his hips as he took one nipple into his hungry mouth, licking, biting and teasing the extra sensitive flesh with the sharpness of his fangs, while pinching and rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger. The thrill of the danger was almost too much to bear. One wrong move, one flinch at the incorrect second and he would be able to taste your blood on his tongue.

 

He seemed to feel it too, his undisciplined breath fanning your burning skin as he kissed and sucked his way to the other nipple, giving it the same oral attention until you were reduced to a whimpering mess by that foreplay alone. Moving lower, he pushed you up by the waist to engrave your belly with small bites, his free hand waltzing down to seek for shelter in your already sodden, aroused folds.

 

Acknowledging your excitement, his lips twisted into a smile on your stomach as he started to draw small circles around your clit with his thumb; two other thick fingers rubbing back and forth against your sex with persistence, smearing your juices all over the innermost portion of your groin, yet not penetrating you, no matter how much you squirmed or bucked your hips towards his hand, gripping hopelessly at the sheets.

 

_“Benny, stop teasing me, please!”_

 

“So eager and drippin’ for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? You know that beggin’ won’t work this time.”

 

You gasped when he stopped his ministrations, stood on his knees and noosed you forcefully by the waist with an arm, pulling you close to his body, your tits firmly smashed against his hard chest muscles. Benny smirked deviously at you, while you just stared at him, overawed and unable to form a single sentence, tracing his masculine, experienced face lines gingerly with your fingertips, standing completely at his mercy.

 

**“Wanna put this pretty mouth of yours to good use and suck my dick, sweetheart?”**

 

His words were put together like a plea, but the commanding tone in his voice made it obvious to you it was a _behest_ ; and you were more than happy to oblige, shuddering as a moving ridge of desire roamed through your body to pool inside your lower belly. Benny loosened his grip around your midriff and you bit your lip, nodding your consent.

 

Placing your hands on his shoulder blades, you applied just enough pressure to coerce him to sit on the bed in front of you, supporting the weight of his upper body with his hands. His massive erection throbbed in anticipation between his legs and, softly, you kissed his lips, biting softly on the edge of his jaw line before going down to his neck, taking extra time to suck his skin and leave a visible hickey there, to which he grunted, grasping at your hair firmly with one fist to remind you of who was still in charge, but not with enough strength to actually hurt you.

 

On the way down, your tongue tasted the creases of his chiseled body, his intoxicating scent overwhelming your senses and his defined muscles flexing under your lips. When you finally reached his cock, taking it caringly in your hands and giving it a tentative pump, you looked up into his cerulean eyes, finding both adoration and unbridled passion mirrored in your reflection. It was enough to make you grin elfishly for an instant, poking just the tip of your tongue out of your mouth to slide it across the underside of his cock, from the base to the head, tasting the solitary drop of precum previously released by your lover.

 

“You’re so delicious, love…”, you moaned in appreciation to his flavor, listening to him hiss above you due to the slow torment, and repeated the process patiently around his entire cock, stopping to place a sloppy kiss atop the pulsating vein running up his length, making sure he was hard and slick enough for what was yet to come. Then, when you were satisfied with the lubrication, you closed one hand into a fist at the base of his shaft, resting the other on his inner thigh to lean in and press your velvety lips around the tip, flicking sultrily your tongue over the responsive slit to drive him wild.

 

His grip on your hair fastened, a guttural groan being heard as you closed your eyes and unhurriedly took inch after inch into your mouth.

 

As you presumed he would, Benny thrust his hips, unable to control his need before your skills, but you rolled your head back an pinned him down with your hands in time not to gag, only to dive back in, eagerly opening your lips wide and taking as much of him as you could into the heat of your mouth. He whispered a barely audible _‘So good, sweetheart…’_ , and you took it as an incentive to start bobbing your head up and down, massaging his length with your tongue, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat each time, though you were unable to take it all in.

 

It didn’t seem to bother him at all, however, as he grunted words of appreciation once more, his digits dancing slowly on the back of your head, caressing your perspiring skin.

 

Benny didn’t need to give you any other order. You knew exactly what he wanted by his body language and swallowed soundly, hollowing out your cheeks to take him as deep as you could into your mouth. He emptied his lungs with a gruff exhale, his dick twitched dangerously and your hand started to stroke what you couldn’t fit inside. Then, he tugged demandingly at your hair, holding you in place as you tamely released him and he began to repeatedly jerk his hips, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth with a steady pace. In return, you kept your throat and jaw as relaxed as possible, moaning delightedly around him to send vibrations up his spine.

 

At first, you figured he would keep the pace to spill his load for you to swallow. However, just as abruptly or overwhelmingly as everything else, he pulled you away from his dick before hitting his peak; the primitive, intense fire in his eyes making your body tingle all over. You licked your saliva-smeared mouth, inhaling heavily through your nostrils when he kissed you again, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. You whimpered helplessly, slinging your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer to you, losing yourself in his firm, heavy-handed grip.

 

For a while, just kissing you was exactly what he wanted; and you took bite for bite, snarl for snarl, exploring his well-built body as his hands blindly searched for your ass, squeezing it with enough force to leave faint red marks of his fingers on your skin.

 

“I want you, Benny. Please…”, you uttered meekly, disregarding his previous warning, and he ceased the kiss to turn you around, panting briskly. The sweat covering his muscles gave a whole new erotic shade to his skin under the poor natural lighting, his strong hands gripping you by the waist to drag you closer to the bedpost and make you bend forward, knees on the bed and ass in the air; your wetness dripping down your thighs.

 

Searching for support against the headboard, you looked at him over your left shoulder, a feral aura making him narrow his eyes and curl his lips around his white teeth and fangs. His hands pushed your ass cheeks apart, giving him a privileged view of your most intimate, drenched parts, and he licked his lips hungrily, resisting the urge to make you come just by using his mouth.

 

Mischievously, he rubbed and probed the head of his cock against your pussy, particularly its entrance, and you closed your eyes, moaning throatily.

 

**“Beg your pardon, sweetheart? I couldn’t _quite_ hear what you said.”**

_…The son of a bitch just loved to make you explain in detail what you wanted him to do, didn’t he?_

You stuttered, feeling a rush of blood warm up your cheeks in embarrassment and euphoria at the same time, the tip of his dick bumping into your clit with each teasing thrust and causing your knuckles to whiten as you held onto the bed for support. A thin layer of sweat covered your own body, much like his, sliding heavily down your temples.

 

_“I s-said… Hah—, **fuck me senseless, love** … Please… I n-need you inside of me.”_

His hands attached themselves to your waist and he growled behind you, filling your more-than-ready pussy with the entireness of his cock in one solid thrust. Your body got sapped of its strength and you fell onto the sheets, satisfied that your pleading had worked at last, your knees still standing solely because of his firm grip as he pounded hard and slow into your pussy, testing the best angles to get the neediest responses from you.

 

The lewd slaps of his crotch against your ass resonated across the bedroom, along with your lusty moans muffled into the pillow; his thumbs drawing small circles on your lower back in time with his thrusts.

 

**“How does it feel? Too harsh for you?”**

 

_“…No!”_ , you gasped, finding it difficult to breathe, moreover speak, _“More… Give me **more** , love. It feels, ahh… **Divine**.”_

 

He complied with your wishes after what seemed to be forever, quickening his pace only when you couldn’t take his teasing anymore and beseeched him to speed up again. Bending forward, he supported his upper body with one hand, leaving the other one free to hold you in place and manipulate your soaking wet pleasure bud with his fingertips, your mind already drifting nearer to the desired orgasm.

 

A sharp pain electrified your systems, mixing with unbearable bliss, when Benny bit into your shoulder without fully piercing the skin, his gruff voice being the only thing still keeping you sane.

 

**“…Who owns you?”**

You stared at him towering above you through half-closed, lust-addled eyelids, breathing with the aid of your mouth and moaning loudly every time he hit a sweet spot inside you, working miracles with that specific position of his hips; your legs quivering as a foreshadow of the upcoming orgasm.

 

_“Y-you…”_

He stood back on his knees, short grunts rumbling in his throat as he punctuated each word with a slam of his hips on the back of your thighs. The increasing rhythm of your fucking reached that perfect set of borderline wildness and unreserved rapture, and you started to squeeze your inner muscles in tempo with his thrusts, stimulating his whole length according to his own pace.

 

**“Say. It. Louder.”**

**_“Ngh—! You, love! Only you! Fuck me harder! Deeper, please! I’m so close!”_** , you shouted at the top of your lungs, not caring if the guests at the nearby room could hear you screaming. All you wanted was to become one with him, to keep hearing his ragged breath and feeling his hands hold your waist hard enough to leave bruises for a week.

 

You could almost hear the smile in his voice at your reply.

 

“Such an obedient hunter… This lil’ pussy of yours knows damn well how to take a vampire’s dick just right… _So goddamn tight…_ ”

You were too lost in the moment to produce more than groans anymore, and, apparently, so was he to be concerned about receiving a response. In haste, he brought you back to a kneeling posture, hands finding your breasts and cupping them coarsely as he pressed his lips to yours, muffling your whimpers into the rough kiss. You held him by the back of his neck, gripping at the bedpost not to fall with the strength of his thrusts.

 

Soon, his hips lost their cadence, fucking you harder and harder into the wall until, with one deeper slam, he threw you over the edge, painting your insides with his warm, sticky seed as he hit his peak no more than a few seconds after you, groaning into your hair with his cock buried to the hilt inside your pussy.

 

For a while, both of you stood there, panting. The weight of his body pressed you onto the cold wall and he breathed hotly at the back of your neck, retracting his fangs; his hips draining the rest of his stamina to roll and thrust sluggishly into you for the last three times. A persistent buzz in your ears faded away as you regained control of your senses, realizing only now that the alarm had gone off a long time ago and the neighboring radio station was playing an old pop rock song in the background, the sun starting to rise outside the window.

 

With a strained grunt of his and a shivering flinch of yours, he removed himself carefully from your still throbbing core, lying back down and dragging you along onto his chest, both of his hands caressing your arms and back gently as he recovered his breath.

 

“Did I hurt you, darlin’? It’s hard to control myself when I’m with you.”, he whispered into your hair apologetically, sliding down his fingertips to soothe the spots of your hips where he had gripped you a little too tight. And you raised your head to look at him, resting your chin on his chest. His eyes held a pacific and vivid blue shade, like the serene waters of a forest lake, much different from the untamed beast’s taking you five minutes ago. You smiled at him, shaking your head to brush off his concern, and nestled into his arms.

 

“Of course not, Benny. A little bit of roughness from time to time won’t kill me, I assure you.”

 

“…That’s good. Sometimes I wonder if I’m goin’ too far, but then I remember how much of a badass hunter you are.”

 

Benny placed a kiss to your forehead, squeezing you in his arms as you laughed at his words, enjoying the lazy atmosphere as much as you could before the crude reality would give you a wake-up call and shake you off of your perfect little world, where there was no one but you, him and the cotton sheets covering your bodies.

 

“I love you, Benny.”

 

To say you were making up for all the sex abstinence of your life as a hunter during the time you and Benny had been together was a huge understatement; not that you were complaining. You felt entirely sore in a hunt or two, but you didn’t give a damn about it. It was about time you’d turn all those days you daydreamed about what he’d be like in bed, when you were still not an item, into reality.

 

And, _God_ , he was so much more talented than you could’ve imagined. Who could’ve known he had such a high sex drive?

 

“I love you too, darlin’.”

 

When the clock announced with a beep it was 8 a.m., you reluctantly got up, turned off the radio and shared a shower with Benny _— having a little bit of fun in there as well —_ to get rid of the sex smell and bed hair, putting on clean clothes afterwards to hit the nearby coffee house and have a slice of your monthly quota of decent and almost healthy breakfast. Already there, you grabbed the newspaper resting on the counter and walked to a table for two at the corner of the shop, Benny on your tail.

 

“Did Dean return our call to drop any news? I’m worried about him and Sam.”

 

The waitress interrupted you both before he could answer your question. You ordered your favorite couple items from the menu while Benny, not to leave you eating alone, chose a traditional mug of strong, black coffee, even if he didn’t need it, per se.

 

When you last talked with Dean on the phone, he informed you Sam was pretty screwed up from the two trials he had gone through: bleeding out of the blue, confused, losing weight, balance and sleep. Thinking of how he still had one more test ahead terrified you – it could kill him for all you were willing to bet –, and regardless of how selfish it sounded, to you it was a price too high to pay just to close the Gates of Hell.

 

Your biggest concern, however, was knowing Sam was Dean’s counterbalance, his center of focus. And if anything was to happen to him, things would get certainly too ugly to handle.

 

When it came to his family, Dean was inconsequent, single-minded and would torture and kill anyone standing in the way if it was necessary to bring his brother back from wherever he was sent to. That much you knew for sure. You just feared he would spiral down into insanity if he had to lose Sam to the cons of the business once more.

 

“Just the same ol’ _‘Tell (Name) not to worry, I can handle it. If we need any help, we’ll give you a call’_ talk.”

 

You rolled your eyes at that, flipping open the newspaper to look for weird news that you had yet to read, “Typical proud son of a bitch. He always says we should ask for help if we need, but when it’s his turn, the freaking sky can be falling on their heads and he’s gonna tell us he and Sam are fine.”

 

“You know better than me that’s the sort of man life taught him to be, darlin’. He ain’t gonna make you worry on purpose.”, Benny paused to thank the waitress for bringing your order, taking a sip of his scalding coffee as soon as he laid his hands on it, apparently immune to potential burns on the tongue, “ _’sides_ , he call’d you when he needed help to save me; he call’d me when he needed a hand to save his lil’ brother. Those should speak on his behalf.”

 

“Fine, fine.”, you huffed through your teeth and took a swig of your own beverage, eyes proficiently scanning the black and white news in front of you, “I’ll give him some credit for that, but we’re still gonna drop by the bunker to check on Sam again as soon as we can, right after solving...”, you folded the newspaper several times to highlight a small article with no significant picture or emphasis on the bottom corner of the page, no more than fifteen lines long, and turned it upside down, so Benny could read it, “…This case.”, you tapped the headline, turning to your own breakfast as he furrowed his brow to read it between gulps of coffee.

 

“ _’College freshman found dead after whole weekend party’_?”, he raised an eyebrow, but you gestured for him to keep reading. Five lines or so through the article, his eyes shined with enlightenment and he scratched his beard, “…Arms and legs tied… Strange fang marks on her neck… Body dried out of blood. Definitely our kind of thing.”

 

When you told Benny you wouldn’t give up on your life as a hunter, because you owed it to your no longer living family and it was basically the main work you knew how to do, he took it as a personal mission to tag along and help you out. You were very clear that he didn’t have to, especially now that you were back to your expertise: **vampires** , but he insisted, using the same _‘I’m already a disgrace to my own people, anyway’_ excuse to stay close and protect you if you needed.

 

In the end, you became a kick ass vampire hunter couple, fairly known and respected across the country for destroying entire nests by yourselves.

 

The irony that went along with it – 50% of the team being made of vampire material of all things – didn’t pass unnoticed by the hunter community. However, due to the quickly spreading news of your achievements on the underground network and knowing a bit too well what Benny and you were capable of, no hunter was stupid or brave enough to screw with him.

 

“Told you.”, cleaning the corners of your mouth with a disposable napkin, you smiled at your companion, nodding enthusiastically, “Now, that’s either a hardcore case of blood play gone wrong or we have a vampire on the loose two towns ahead.”

 

Those words seemed to humor Benny, the tokens being a rather ungraceful snort and a rare toothy smile sprouting on his features, “I like the way your mind works, darlin’.”

 

You just winked playfully at him, a smile hidden behind the brim of the mug, your hand squeezing his across the table.

 

“I know you do, love. I know you do.”

 

Your destination was nothing extraordinary, just a peaceful town with seemingly ordinary people, and your first day was basically spent interrogating witnesses that were at the party or knew the victims. They had almost nothing in common, including social circles, which made the task of narrowing it down to a possible suspect a tad bit harder.

 

At the Police Department, you learned that the three deaths were not the only cases so far like the newspaper mentioned, and there was a rapidly growing pile of unsolved, unexplainable occurrences just like the ones you knew about gathering dust at the corner of the sheriff’s desk, all of which were taken to an unoccupied interrogation room you and Benny used as a provisory office to study the leads you had in hand.

 

“This ain’t the work of a lonely vampire. We’ve got ourselves a big nest up ‘ere.”, Benny whispered to you, clicking his tongue in annoyance as he dug through the fresh data, walking around the table with a yellow folder in his hands. His mind was obviously somewhere else, more precisely on the confining disguise he was wearing for the investigation, or so you guessed.

 

Choosing to stand up as well after hours of just staying in the car, you handpicked a case to peruse, the hideously dilacerated victim’s neck on the picture momentarily churning up your insides, even after years at the job, “I’ve got the feeling we should be really careful with this one, Benny. This wasn’t just to satiate their hunger… This was for _fun_.”

 

Every once in a while, he pulled at the collar of his suit like it was the most uncomfortable piece of clothing in the entire universe, while you just looked at him sideways in amusement, discreetly examining how the expensive clothes you had bought so he could pass as an FBI agent seemed to tighten around him in all the right places as he strode by.

 

They were totally different from his comfy, rather vintage everyday attire, and as much as you adored how his Henley looked great revealing the outlines of his body underneath, you’d be a fool not to admit that he was way too hot to be legal wearing a suit: baronial and surefooted, like an important businessman, or a classy mafia boss, while sporting such a serious, dour expression.

 

“…I’ll never get used to this thing.”, he snarled under his breath, speaking more to himself than to you.

 

Given the circumstances, he was surprisingly fit for the job, aside from capable of interacting properly with you as if you were legitimate government workers, or dealing with the discomfort to keep his persona in front of everyone else. Benny grasped better than most that being a hunter wasn’t just bearing guns, sleeping in motels and kicking ass. There was a plethora of researching, strategizing, hacking, and the occasional blackmailing, negotiating with demons, hijacking and other deals you weren’t exactly proud of, but that were needed to keep other people safe.

 

His answer in the end was still _‘I’ll do it, if it means I can be with you.’_ , so the least you could do was give him a treat to get his mind out of his distress. _Your poor little vampire._

 

“More work, less complaints, _Agent_.”, you muttered and nudged him lightheartedly when he stopped his pilgrimage to stand by your side, making it look like an accident to the guarding cop standing outside the half see-through door. You leaned closer to him, as if to tell him something important about the case, and when he did the same to listen, you made a point in using the sexiest voice you could articulate to naughtily replace his discomfort with another sort of distraction, “If you behave and be a good boy now, I promise that, as soon as this case is over, we can stay locked inside a motel room for a whole week just having long baths, wild sex and then some.”

 

Listing two of the things he loved the most served well to capture Benny’s attention. Pleased with yourself, you changed focus and shifted the weight of your body from one leg to the other, innocently peering through the victim’s pictures while giving him a nice peek of how great your body looked with a pencil skirt and the silk blouse you had chosen to compose your own ‘FBI costume’, not to mention your natural make-up and elaborated hairstyle that added a nice touch of flawlessness to your look _(who said hunters can’t indulge themselves with the finest things from time to time, anyways?)_. You just knew that your buttocks looked fantastic whenever you would bend to grab another file on the table, and the fiery gaze he had thrown at you ratified that you looked even better than usual wearing something other than your plaid hunter clothes.

 

The growl partially muffled in his throat could pass as murderous if you didn’t know the real intents behind it. His eyes left yours for a moment to look at the officer, who had his back turned to you, only to rebound and drink in your stunning appearance with those beautiful, iridescent blue irises of his.

 

Then, came his words strained with yearning, nearly fizzle-like.

 

“You’re lucky we’ve got company, or else you’d be sprawled all over this table with my name on your lips and my dick rammin’ your pussy by now, **_sweetheart_**.”

 

You couldn’t help but shiver at the untimely use of that meaningful nickname, or the victorious revenge smile that curled the corner of his lips when he noticed your little slide. It was your turn to spare him a venomous stare, since he knew all too well the effect that single word had on you when **he** was the one saying it.

 

Subconsciously, you pressed your thighs together in hopes of containing the emergent heat between your legs. One more time of him calling you that and you’d have to excuse yourself to change your underwear.

 

“…You’re so unfair sometimes, did you know that? I was just trying to help!”

 

Benny raised his eyebrows at you, the previous smile becoming a full-fledged, uninhibited smirk. His dilated pupils were something he couldn’t hide from you, but it didn’t seem to be a bother. It was almost as if he wanted you to know what your mere voice could do to him.

 

…Was it just your impression or he was sniffling a bit harder to sense the beginnings of your arousal in the air? Damn him and his oversensitive nose.

 

“ **Help?** You expect me to believe that? I may be old, but I ain’t dead, _Agent_. If that’s what it takes so you’ll be just as hot n’ bothered as you wanna make me, I’m game.”

 

You huffed at his impudence, air blowing off your nostrils like an angry bull. He was still much, much better than you at using your weak spots to work you up and leave you hanging, but you’d rather die and go to Hell a thousand times than avouch it. You were just too stubborn for that.

 

The war of stares remained until you broke eye contact to hug the armful of folders and press it close to your heart, regaining control of your professional aura, the heels of your shoes clicking on the polished floor as you turned to stand face-to-face with him, delicately fixing the knot of his necktie that already looked impeccable.

 

“Do you want to know what comforts me, love?”

 

He shook his head slowly and defiantly as your lips hovered dangerously close to his. Bookmarking the report he was reading with his left index finger, he leaned one side of his hips against the table; his gravelly voice disarranging your self-discipline.

 

“Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

 

You wanted to take him right there and now, to smear his skin with your lipstick and give him a thousand other hickeys that would show everyone else he belonged to you and **only you**.

 

It would require another time and another place, though.

 

 “At least I’m not the one parading around with a love bite I can’t hide on my neck for the whole PD to see.”, and you winked at him, a smile returning to your face and a hot wave of triumph running through your veins at the sight of his crumbling smile, bemused stare and the spontaneous hand slapping the purple spot on his skin to cover it from your eyes.

 

Apparently, he wasn’t aware of that fact until now.

 

Ignoring his obvious astonishment, you left him be, marching outside the room with an imperative hue to your words and posture, meeting the Sheriff by chance at the corridor. “Agent Mustaine and I are taking these to help with our investigation. This is now a federal matter, officer, so I suggest you retreat your men and leave it to our jurisdiction if you want to keep your job.”

 

With your attitude and Benny’s face of few friends as he strode through the hallway to catch up with you — hand still holding his neck —, the Sheriff did little to offer resistance, even going as far as walk aside to stand out of your way as you strutted out of the department.

 

That harmless bickering was soon forgotten as you kissed every possible pinprick away and immersed yourselves back into the case. It took you three entire days of researching some more and cross-referencing missed hints in the clues to find the vampires’ possible nest location, narrowing it down to either an infamous Biker Bar or an abandoned warehouse, both at the outskirts of town.

 

Your first chosen target was the Biker Bar, because the warehouse was too much of an obviously dull guess and, let’s face it, after the _Vampirates_ , you didn’t doubt **anything** in this world anymore. Benny was not amused by your terrible _Vambikers_ jokes and references, and only tagged along so he could be the first one to give you an ‘I told you so’ look when you had your hopes crushed by the bikers being just… Well, **bikers**.

 

Of course, they looked suspicious, vicious and about to bite your head off, but your scrutiny only proved them to be normal humans in the end.

 

On the next day, armed to your teeth, you broke into the gigantic warehouse with the power of daylight on your side to catch the nest unprepared and exterminate whatever was in the way. It was the most populous vampire conglomerate you had taken care of so far, and halfway through the job, you feared the generous stock of vamptonite you carried around wouldn’t be enough to impair every single creature who lunged your way.

 

Grudgingly, you came to the conclusion that killing them without exerting yourself beyond needed was rather unlikely.

 

You finally came face to face with the nest maker a good hour later, a single syringe of dead man’s blood left inside your jacket. Several claw marks covered your arms and a nasty bite on Benny’s right shoulder still glittered with the deep red of the seeping blood, his stamina levels dropping quickly as he got closer to his body limit. They weren’t particularly strong, but they were _too goddamn many_ and seemed to pop out of nowhere like cockroaches.

 

Even after killing something closer to a freaking hundred of them, they still had a handicap in numbers: five against two.

 

“Selling yourself just to sleep with a mortal for less than a century, brother? Is it really worth the effort of slaughtering your own kind? I reckon she’s beautiful, but that’s too much of a hassle just to get into her panties, don’t you think?”, the Maker mocked Benny, standing behind the wall of muscles that were his lackeys. “You’re a creature of the night. Your potential is clear… Just look at what you did!”, and he gestured to the dozens of dismembered bodies lying around, “Join us and I can give you as many females, better than her, as you can dream of.”

 

Benny’s chest resounded with a growl, sweat dripping from his chin as his grip on the machete tightened. Without warning, he lunged forward; two other hidden vampires coming from behind the tall shelves to attack you at the same time and split you up.

 

Incapable of helping him under the surprise assault, you turned on your heels and started your own fight, gritting your teeth whenever the vampires proved to be faster than your swinging blade. Your hand protested against the undue effort – chopping off at least forty necks was not as easy as the Hollywood movies made it seem – and the muscle on your forearm jolted unexpectedly, allowing a perfect opportunity to kill both of them with one blow to slide. You didn’t know for how long you kept fighting, taking one of the vampires down in the meantime, until Benny’s pained gasp echoed from somewhere behind you.

 

Turning around, your eyes widened at the sight of two dead, headless vampires on the floor, the remaining two holding Benny’s arms out of the way as their leader sunk the needle of a syringe into his neck, spurting the rotten, dark liquid into his vascular system. Benny’s whole body convulsed and he howled with a foaming mouth and a tensed jaw, falling still on the ground, his eyes ostensibly lifeless-like.

 

“You think you’re the only one who can use your weaknesses against your people? Don’t make me laugh!”

 

They had dead man’s blood too and, apparently, something else even stronger tossed in the mix.

**“BENNY!!!”**

The nest Maker laughed out loud, facing your despair with a smug smile and squinted eyes, “I gotta say… I’m disappointed you don’t quite live up to your repute.”, he tossed the plastic injection aside, cleaning his hands with a handkerchief produced from the insides of his pocket, “I’ll have so much fun ripping the skin out of your body, whore. **_Piece. By. Piece._** While all he can do is watch… And, then, I’m gonna kill this excuse of a vampire too for thinking he could stand against me and reject my heartwarming offer.”

 

He kicked Benny’s stomach, regretting the decision immediately when his fancy shoes got drenched in his own lackey’s blood staining your lover’s shirt.

 

At that, you began to see red before you, and powered by strength one could only justify as driven by wrath, you threw yourself at him and the minion that jumped in front of you without thinking of the consequences, ripping their heads off of their bodies with two clean cuts before they could fully grasp what was going on.

 

Eerie silence ensued afterwards, their heads rolling away from your feet as your body shook with concentrated anger. The raw rage sparkling in your eyes met terror in the two remaining vampires’ orbs and your voice reverberated like thunder in the almost desolated storehouse.

 

**_“DOES ANYONE ELSE WANNA DIE TODAY?! I’M GONNA COUNT TO FUCKING THREE BEFORE I RIP YOUR HEADS OFF. ONE—!”_ **

 

The wipeout survivors scurried away as soon as the first number left your lips, disappearing from your sight. You took a couple deep breaths to recover, to let the adrenaline levels cool down, prior to dropping your weapon and scampering to Benny’s side. On your knees, you held him in your arms with trembling hands, your wobbly breath interrupting your speech as you tried to shake him off of the effects of the blood to no avail.

 

“Benny! It’s me, (Name)… I’m gonna get you out of here. Take you somewhere safe, I promise... Just… Just don’t leave me, please.”, fighting back stubborn tears, you pocketed the discarded injection to investigate its contents further, dragging his tensed up body across the floor and back to your car.

 

You drove off as fast as you could, the engine roaring in protest to being forced to its speed limit, your focus switching between the road and its margin, looking for the nearest motel so he could get the only cure to that poison that you knew: sleeping it off.

 

Under normal circumstances, you would be scolding yourself for letting two vampires flee. One survivor was bad enough to call the mission a failure. Two, in particular, were a disgrace to your reputation. They would regroup and come after you, that was a given, but you pushed that thought aside, thinking of way more important matters at the moment, like Benny’s health.

 

When you handed three US$ 100 bills across the counter to the nosy motel receptionist, she disregarded your bloody clothes and hair, giving you the keys to your room with no further annoying questions. Now that your battlefield spirits had subsided, carrying a half-unconscious Benny into the bedroom wasn’t a slice of pie, but you managed to finish the task somehow, placing him carefully on the comfy bed and covering him with all the blankets and sheets you could find.

 

The throughout investigation on the syringe proved the putrid blood was stirred together with an humungous amount of tranquilizer for hunting large wildlife, and you prayed to every angel and God out there it wouldn’t result in an anaphylactic shock of some sort. You didn’t know if his body still sort of functioned like a human’s, or even if that blend could kill him at all. Either way, you made sure you had a shot of epinephrine at the ready, expecting it to have the same effects on vampires as it did on your kind.

 

It was now a matter of time and risky chances, a sadistic little probability game you would have to wait on, and you longed for him to wake up and return to his old self with each heartbeat of yours. The room was too empty, too cold and too sad without his smile and his voice to keep you company.

 

You cleaned him with a dampened cloth and tended to the wound on his shoulder before your own, aware that it wouldn’t heal itself until he could drink a couple blood bags to recover. Done with the procedure, you took a quick shower to get rid of your stinky, dirty clothes and put on clean ones, sitting beside him on the bed with your legs crossed.

 

Your hand searched for his, dragging his left arm to your lap and massaging his skin softly with small circles done with your thumbs. He had a permanent scrunched up expression, as if he was in insufferable pain, and his chest rose and fell irregularly, brand new drops of sweat peppering his forehead with glisten, all of which you dried off with the aid of a towel.

 

There was no way you could imagine what he was going through, and even if you could, you’d trade places with him any day to feel it all instead. However, life slapped you in the face with your own powerlessness, and you lowered your eyes in defeat, having no other options but wait until his organism would discard the dead man’s blood on its own.

 

“I’m here for you, Benny... You’re safe now…”

 

The day became night, and day and night all over again, but you barely left his side or the bedroom, keenly observing for any complication signs. You ate only because you had to, feeling no hunger whatsoever, but knowing you would be even less useful fainting around due to your body not being properly nourished. Your eyes burned with need to sleep, to which you bravely resisted using the best of your abilities until your systems shut down, needing to recharge after everything that had happened, and you fell asleep next to him without noticing how or when.

 

Just like most of your slumbers, it was a dreamless rest, as if you had been knocked out with the blow of a baseball bat on the back of the head. It could’ve been two hours or twenty that had gone by and you wouldn’t know for sure.

 

All you knew was that, when you finally woke up, facing the door, the fluffy blankets were covering you from the waist down and fingers contoured smoothly the shallow cuts on your arms, easily lifting off of your shoulders all the exhaustion and suffering you had been through.

 

You turned around, being graced with the sight of a smiling, shirtless Benny, who was conveniently wearing nothing but dark boxer briefs. Not that you could say much only in panties and an old and beaten t-shirt that did as little as cover your upper body until half of your stomach.

 

A fresh fragrance of soap reached your nose and you noticed his hair was slightly wet; the injury on his shoulder nowhere to be seen. His face was tinted with a healthy color, not a shade of the past few days visible in his demeanor, so you guessed he had probably just finished taking a shower, after feasting on the entire blood stock to recover that well while you were sleeping.

 

Replenishing it was worry for another day, though.

 

“You look tired, darlin’.”, he spoke thoughtfully and stroked your face with tenderness in his touch, a concerned frown reaching the corners of his eyes.

 

 “…You’re awake.”, was your bemused, simplistic reply. You held his face between your hands, unsure of where to look at: his beautiful eyes, his perfect nose, those lips that could drive you crazy effortlessly. There was so much you wanted to say, but couldn’t put the words together, and sensing that, he spoke instead.

 

“All thanks to you, darlin’. I’d be back in Purgatory by now if it weren’t for your care.”, he smiled, running his fingers along your jaw line. Your eyes were permanently glued to his as he approached you, only a breath keeping you apart, gently taking a hold of your chin.

 

“I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know you were around, lookin’ out for me.”, he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against yours as another string of words left his mouth, _“When I was still human, I’d always wondered if I was worthy of havin’ my own guardian angel. Now, I’m sure it’s **you**.”_

 

The unpleasant sting of constricted weeping was back to your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, showering his whole face with smacks. You didn’t know if you should cry or laugh, so you did both, pressing him against you as the tears you had been holding back started to stream without restraint down into the pillow. His smile dropped – he wasn’t a big fan of seeing you cry —, but he kept himself next to you, pressing his lips softly to yours as his hands slid down, caressing the sides of your hips tenderly, silently conveying that he knew what those tears meant in all their spectrum of connotations.

 

“I thought… I was gonna lose you… And I let two of them escape… To buy some time…”, you whispered in-between quiet sobs, but he shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips for a moment, then replacing it with his own.

 

_“Shh. S’alright…”_ , he murmured back, leaving your lips to nuzzle your neck, placing a hand on your back, under the fabric of your t-shirt. There was no rush or lust involved in his actions, only the essence of the pure affection and commitment he felt for you surrounding that cozy gesture. “I’m alive, ain’t I? And you’re fine, aren’t you?”, you nodded feebly, closing your eyes and surrendering to his touch, “Stop blaming yourself so much. We’ll think tomorrow about tomorrow. I’m more worried about taking care of you now, **_Kitten_**.”

 

Suddenly, the effects of his touch seared like fire on your skin, and you couldn’t hold back an involuntary moan or your fingernails sinking into the muscles on his back. It had been a long time, _too long_ , in fact, since he had last called you that. His demanding and wild self was all fun and games, and you loved to submit completely to him. But, right now, his caring side was exactly what you needed.

 

Without another word, you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back with no resistance on his part. You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and he understood your intentions, sitting on the bed so you could taste and mend each other with ardor all over again. His hands danced on your bare thighs, slowly, caringly, and goose pimples erupted on your skin.

 

Your stare fell to his lips as you licked your own, but before you could act on it, he was kissing you already, your tongue darting into his mouth, dominating the kiss as you palmed his shoulders and torso like they were unknown territory to your curious hands.

 

Eventually, you felt his growing bulge against your sex and, ever so teasingly, began to roll your hips, grinding your already wet folds onto his erection; your exchange of moans and groans getting muffled one another’s mouths. His scent was spicy, yet refreshing, emphasizing his overflowing masculinity; his rough touch feeling oh-so exquisite on your skin as he cupped softly your ass cheeks, helping you move on top of him without tiring yourself too much. His body was a perfect fit with yours, like two pieces of a puzzle, and the only logical conclusion you could come up with was that you’d never _ever_ get enough of him.

 

He searched for your left ear with his lips, biting hotly at the earlobe, his hands unabashedly crawling under your t-shirt to massage your breasts just the way you liked. _“You sure ‘bout this, Kitten? Aren’t you tired?”_ , Benny questioned amidst a grunt as you threw your head back and moaned your lungs out, his hips starting to grind back against you to increase the pleasant friction. You could tell his worry was genuine, as paradoxical as it seemed when placed beside his actions, but you needed it as much as he did, so you just nodded, raising your arms to help him take your t-shirt out of the way, mentally high-fiving yourself for choosing not to wear a bra that day.

 

One less annoying piece of clothing to stand in the way of his skilled... _Everything._

 

With full access to your upper body, he chose to caress the still unhealed marks on your arms instead of doing something more sex-driven, at least for the moment. His lips peppered your visible scars with kisses, taking longer on the splotch on your shoulder, where a shapeshifter had shot you a year ago; followed by the blemish placed next to your collarbone, which was the only souvenir you brought back from that time you traveled to the mountains to hunt a nasty wendigo that was shredding to pieces an entire village.

 

You never told him, but Benny knew how you hated them with every fiber of your being, how insecure you felt at first for showing him who you really were underneath the layers of clothing hiding you from the world, how you wished you could have flawless skin, like the sex symbols stamping the magazine covers, though you knew it was an unachievable deed as long as you kept doing what you did for a living. And he made a point each time in showing he loved each and every single one of them for the sole reason they were a part of you.

 

No pretty model could ever replace that.

 

“You’re beautiful…”, he pressed his lips onto the nape of your neck, sucking soundly on your skin to leave a hickey of his own, quieting his hands at the sides of your waist, “So beautiful… _My sexy, lovely Kitten._ ”

 

By then, your panties were practically dripping and your hips moved a little bit faster against the rock-hard erection trapped inside his underwear, your whimpers and groans rolling freely out of your mouth. Your eyes found his, the gorgeous blue pushed to the edges of his irises, forming only a thin ring barricading the pitch black lust of his pupils; and you bit your lower lip, resting your forehead to his as you held him close by the back of his neck.

 

_“Could you… Please?”_

He nodded, understanding your request without the need for you to finish it. Carefully, he grabbed you in his arms, changing positions, and placed you on the bed, the sheets and blankets feeling soft against your nude back. His fingers latched on the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs to toss them over his head.

 

You did your best to control your irregular breath, observing as he unfolded your knees and brought one your legs up, resting the heel on his shoulder as he massaged and kneaded your flesh until your knee. Soon, his mouth joined the fun, placing soft kisses and bites on your ankle. He blew softly on the skin, choosing to keep his fangs hidden this time, the combination of his hands fondling your thigh, while the wet heat of his lips traced a line from your foot to your groin making you squirm in eagerness to feel more of him.

 

Ignoring your silent protest, he retreated, giving the same treatment to your other leg. His mouth roamed aimlessly, leaving bites and apologetic kisses on your sensitive spots; his unwavering gaze focused on your face and the reactions he could draw from you by mapping every piece of your body with his mouth. When his lips returned to your inner thighs, you shut your eyes closed to heighten the sensations, gripping at the bed sheets as he replaced his teeth with his tongue, drawing an invisible path of sloppy kisses and wet licks all the way to your folds, keeping a steady hand on your belly to make sure you wouldn’t buck your hips and spoil his plans.

 

“Benny…”, you breathed out, holding back a moan as he began to encircle your swollen clit with his practiced tongue, spreading your legs apart and testing the resistance on your entrance before pushing two fingers deeply into you, curling them expertly to find your g-spot.

 

It was a mystery where he had learned his little tricks, but they worked so much better than what you were used to. Instead of pushing his fingers in and out, he flicked his wrist _up and down_ , stimulating your clit with the palm of his hand as his fingers hit your sweet spot over and over again with precision, making your toes curl and your back arch away from the bed, a string of profanities that would make demons cover their ears in embarrassment leaving your lips as Benny chuckled quietly to himself, distributing kisses along your stomach and probably feeling self-satisfied as hell that he could expose that raw side so easily of someone as composed as you were.

 

“You like it _that much_ , huh? I guess Imma have to do it more often, then.”, came his muffled remark, his mouth now pressed around your right nipple, sucking with abandon as you whimpered and held him by the shoulders; the soggy, dirty sounds of his fingers fucking you nonstop reverberating in the air.

 

“God, yes! I… I can’t… _Ah—_!”, before you could finish, a boiling wave of pleasure exploded inside you as you hit your first orgasm for the night, soaking his hand while your body writhed under his; your sex squeezing his fingers for a seed that would never come out. Sparing you no time to rest, he kissed his way back down to your pussy, removing his fingers to hold your legs open firmly as he lapped up the remaining juices on your folds, closing his mouth around your clit as soon as you were cleaned to suck it eagerly, earning a desperate cry in response as your buried your hands into his hair. With your sensitivity amplified from the first orgasm and the way he switched between sucking you and fucking you with his tongue, you came hard a second time in less than a minute, your muscles convulsing as you struggled to breathe right and see past the fogginess of your high.

 

The night went on like that for what you vaguely assumed to be three hours, or whatever the time Benny needed to make you come nine other times in a row using only his mouth and occasionally his fingers. Wherever he touched you felt like being set ablaze, and you couldn’t even think straight anymore or see anything besides his smug smirk as he licked his lips clean, took of his boxer briefs and crawled back on top of you to steal a kiss, positioning his painfully hard erection against your entrance.

 

You had no strength left to do more than hug him weakly by the neck and wrap your legs loosely around his hips, brushing your lips against his. Softly, he removed the locks of hair sticking to the sweat on your face, the tip of his cock being more than sufficient to coerce a timid moan out of you by that point.

 

_“… Can I?”_

At the unexpected question, you opened up your eyes to find him hovering above you, waiting for your permission. A foolish, tired giggle rumbled in your throat and you caressed his face, biting his lower lip caringly and pressing his hips gently between your legs, guiding his dick into your slick entrance.

 

“Silly… Do you even have to ask?”

 

With a sigh of relief, he hid his face on your shoulder, grunting lowly as he penetrated you in an excruciating slow motion, mustering his entire power of will not to give into your quivering walls and spill his load right from the beginning. Sensing you didn’t really need time to adjust after all he had already done, he set a measured, sensual rhythm for his hips, rubbing his entire body against yours with each thrust, your hips meeting his halfway as you pressed your lips to his ear, moaning his name more times than you could count.

 

He raised his head to look at you, that warm sparkle of adoration shining in his eyes as he breathed through his lips, resting his forehead on top of yours, speeding up his pace just a bit, his pelvis brushing against your clit in a perfect tempo.

 

“I love you, Kitten… So very much.”, Benny panted, holding his weight with a forearm beside your head and leaving his other hand free to roam on your dewy skin, the urgency in his grip signaling he was way too close to his limit.

 

Once more, you kissed him, feeling your insides flutter as your last climax approached. His body moved so naturally with yours that, at some point, it became hazy to you where he ended and you began. Desire consumed the remains of your consciousness and you moved your hips in a circular motion, grinding your aching clit at the base of his cock in time with his thrusts. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you drank from his lips, moaning endless _‘I love you’_ s until, with a final whisper, you threw him over the edge.

 

_“Don’t hold back… Come with me, Benny.”_

He growled and did just as he was told. His hot seed filled your core and you locked your legs around him, a brand new orgasm taking control of your body yet again as you yelled his name to the ceiling and he bit into your neck, shuddering in your arms; his cock throbbing inside you as he spurted the last of him into your opening.

 

The intensity of your lovemaking was too much for Benny to handle, and after some minutes catching his breath and a small amount of whispered gibberish you couldn’t understand, he fell asleep just like that, on top of you, his head resting comfortably on your breasts. Instead of arguing or pushing him aside, you hugged him, one of your hands stroking his hair and the visible side of his face, while the other rubbed soothing circles on the now relaxed muscles on his shoulders and back. As silence engulfed your bodies, you watched your eyelids descend against your will, enclosing you in a dream world filled with Benny’s warmth, scent and love.

 

Only that, this time, you weren’t afraid.

 

Somehow you knew you’d have the sweetest of dreams for a change.


End file.
